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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039432">Recovering Granger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiccupfound/pseuds/hiccupfound'>hiccupfound</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Dark Thoughts, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Side pairing of harry x ginny x theo, Suicidal Thoughts, future alcohol abuse, healing fic, toxic!draco</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:15:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039432</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiccupfound/pseuds/hiccupfound</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger is widowed at the age of 23 after Viktor Krum dies in a quidditch accident.<br/>She’s merely trying to cope. Draco does not understand it.<br/>Or, a world where Hermione marries very young and remains very busy, and Draco thinks he sees right through it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>171</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Introducing Granger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A few notes<br/>This will be six (maybe seven) chapters long. I will post a chapter per day until it’s finished as this is mostly written already.<br/>There is talk of ptsd and heavy alcohol use later in the fic. If you are in recovery or those topics trigger you, please read with caution.<br/>This is a Hermione that has done a lot of running from her emotions and a Draco that has done a lot of hiding from his.<br/>Don’t expect healthy dynamics here.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Viktor Krum Dies At Age 26 in Quidditch Accident</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Viktor Krum, best known for his time spent with his Bulgarian Quidditch team as well as his marriage to war hero Hermione Granger, was pronounced dead yesterday as a result of a quidditch practice complication. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As of yet, no funeral plans have been announced. His wife has made no comment, but has asked the public for her time to grieve in private.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco read the article with a raised brow over his jam and toast. When Potter walked into the kitchen, he tossed it in his direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This article is months old, why is it out now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter reached into the cupboard and pulled out a bowl. “Hermione’s coming to visit this weekend so I left it out to remind everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of her dead husband?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” He poured his cereal with reckless abandon, flakes flying all over the counter and floor. “She doesn’t like to talk about it and we don’t need anyone messing it up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have just slipped this under Theo’s door.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter snorted. “I was going for a bit more subtlety than that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t suit you.” He snatched up the scrap of paper. “I’ll deliver it personally.”</span>
</p>
<p>“Cheers, thanks.” He spooned a bite of bran into his mouth. “Oh, and Malfoy? Try and play nice with Hermione today, would you?”</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco saluted him and then turned for the stairs, heading up to Theo’s room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked </span>
  </em>
  <span>living at Grimmauld Place with Potter and Weasley, but it was better than the alternative (the Manor). Besides, as he’d often pointed out to Potter, he was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the rightful Black heir. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hadn’t taken too much convincing for Potter to let him move in. They’d been working together in the DMLE since Draco was released from house arrest at age eighteen and they quite got along. The problem had been convincing him to let Draco drag Theo along. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knocked on Theo’s door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you aren’t up you’re going to be late for work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door swung open and Theo glared as he finished knotting his tie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Human Resources department of Gringotts doesn’t function without me. I wouldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>consider </span>
  </em>
  <span>being tardy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We both know that was a position specifically made to keep you out of trouble while simultaneously keeping you busy.” Draco shoved the paper into Theo’s chest. “No one is willing to file a complaint against a goblin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo skimmed the article. His eyes moved quickly across the words, as if it was a piece he was familiar with. He handed it back with a theatrical eye roll.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To what do we owe the pleasure of the all and mighty Miss Granger?”</span>
</p>
<p>Draco leaned against the doorframe with a smirk as Theo turned back into his room, presumably searching for proper shoes.</p>
<p>
  <span>“A visit. Potter wants to make sure you’re house trained.”</span>
</p>
<p>Theo threw his hands in the air. “All I did was ask her why she was assisting the Bulgarian Ministry in rounding up lost Death Eaters. It was merely meant to be an insight into her political motivations!”</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yet what </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>came out of your mouth was, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>are you doing this to avoid the inevitable loneliness after losing your husband?””</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was drunk,” Theo muttered. “Besides, Potter was the one who got angry, not Granger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco waved his hand nonchalantly. “It’s like twin intuition, or something. Pretty sure Potter and Granger have the same thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” Theo walked towards Draco and patted him on the shoulder. “Let Potter know I’ll be on my absolute best behavior. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really shouldn’t keep my fans waiting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you keep referring to the Goblins as your fans I fear you might find yourself in a work related accident,” Draco called after Theo’s retreating body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Draco apparated back home he could already hear the loud voices and smell strong hits of cheap firewhiskey. All this hinted to one thing and one thing alone: Friday night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the beginning of Draco’s release he hadn’t been one to participate in group activities. He preferred to isolate himself to his room after his court ordered hours at the DMLE had been completed. About six months into his probation, his officer stated the Wizengamot’s feared that he wasn’t assimilating back into society. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Get yourself a bit of positive press to get them off your back,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d said, puffing on a muggle cigarette. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So that Friday, when Potter inevitably invited him to join in for a drink, he’d accepted. The next day </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Prophet </span>
  </em>
  <span>front page had been swimming with photos of a much too drunk Draco and an equally inebriated Harry Potter hanging onto each other as they stumbled, laughing, back to their shared home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, Draco hadn’t heard any complaints about his assimilation. So he had continued on in that direction. Besides, getting drunk was bloody amazing. </span>
</p>
<p>Now, at the newly minted age of twenty three, Draco found himself even enjoying the company of everyone else. Potter’s girlfriend, Ginny was often around, as was whatever conquest Weasley might decide on. Theo stood faithfully by his side and sometimes the Weasley twins even made an appearance. Blaise could be dragged through the mud about every month or so, and Pansy showed up when her heart so desired. All in all, the crowd wasn’t too annoying. Not that Draco would ever tell them so.</p>
<p>
  <span>They often took to drinking at home as opposed to bars or clubs now, mostly because Ginny was always being checked for “baby bumps” and being insulted in the papers for having “no heart for the future Potter heir”. Draco once had the nerve to laugh at the headlines and Potter had subsequently punched him in the face. It was one of their many, many fights that probably didn’t need to happen.</span>
</p>
<p>When he entered the kitchen, Potter and Weasley were in the process of shooting back shots. They didn’t look towards him, nor send him a greeting. Potter merely slid a full shot glass down the counter towards him.</p>
<p>Draco whistled. “Rough day, was it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Potter threw back another mouthful and hissed. “Not me,” he nudged his head towards a glum looking Weasley, “Ron.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco tossed back his shot and then raised his eyebrows. He didn’t hate Weasley, not like he had at one point. But they had appearances to keep up. That included not openly acknowledging each other’s feelings, unless it was to mock them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lavender didn’t want to come tonight, so trying to be the understanding boyfriend-but-not-really I am, I told her I understood.” He went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer out. “Apparently, that’s not what she was looking for at all. Right there in the middle of the joke shop, during our busiest time of day, she begins yelling at me about ‘cheating assholes’ and ‘not wanting her to actually come.’ And before I can even wrap my head around that level of crazy to think up a response, she had stormed out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter patted him on the shoulder with a grimace. “It’s a full moon tomorrow. You know how she gets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We aren’t dating!” he exclaimed. “She made that very clear three months ago when she refused to come to George and Angelina’s engagement party with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco listened on silently, nodding his head in thanks when Potter shoved another shot into his hand. He tossed it back and suppressed the urge to grimace. It was a cheap firewhiskey, but he had to admit it did get the job done quicker than Ogden’s Finest ever had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two shots later Draco was feeling rather warm and content. He accepted the beer offered to him by Weasley and sipped slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ginny should be here soon, and I think Hermione said her portkey activated at eight. Are we expecting anyone else?” Potter turned to Draco. “Did you talk to Theo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He has promised nothing but his best tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what worries me,” he mumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Granger isn’t made of glass. She can handle a few accidentally rude comments from Theo without falling to pieces.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione should be the one to bring up her dead husband and no one else. I don’t want to hear a word of it unless she speaks about it first, am I clear?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>Draco bit back the ‘</span><em><span>you’re not in charge of me’ </span></em><span>comment</span> <span>that surged forward and threw his hands up in surrender instead. “I couldn’t care less about Granger or Krum. You don’t need to worry about it.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Granger had split from London not long after the end of the war trials and the public announcement of her relationship with Viktor Krum. At nineteen she’d moved to Scandinavia to head the complete turnaround Durmstrang was attempting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently the lot of pureblood men that attended and taught at the school had majorly been in league with the Dark Lord. Those that weren’t arrested for war crimes promptly went into hiding. If the school didn’t make drastic changes quickly, they would be shut down.</span>
</p>
<p>In flew Hermione Granger, savior of the fucking world and apparently everything that came afterwards as well, with her idea to let all magical types into the school, including woman. It was immediately met with praise and vomit inducing speeches about how smart the Golden Girl was. Just thinking about it made Draco’s teeth hurt with how thick they’d laid it on.</p>
<p>So Durmstrang lived to house another generation of wizards, and, apparently, witches. Granger picked up a teaching job there and had stayed at her post since. From what Draco heard the school was doing rather well for itself. It hadn’t collapsed with the introductions of muggleborns into its doors, at least.</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is Hermione here yet?” Ginny popped in from the fireplace and kissed Potter on the cheek. She enveloped Weasley in a tight hug and nodded at Draco. </span>
</p>
<p>“So formal, considering last week you and Draco broke our coffee table while singing some muggle song on top of it.” Theo appeared in the doorway with his tie already halfway off.</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny said, “It was Brittney Spears and I’ll not hear any slander on her,” at the same time Draco said, “give me three hours.” The pair looked at each other and smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, Draco didn’t really mind his Friday night plans all that much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Granger arrived about ninety minutes later, Theo was sloshed. When there was a knock on the front door Theo rushed out of his seat. By the time anyone else was aware what was going on, he’d already had his arms wrapped around a very confused Granger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She patted Theo consolingly as he yammered on about one thing or another. She didn’t seem to be listening as her eyes fell on the others gathering in the corridor. She extended her arm that Theo didn’t have trapped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Group hug?”</span>
</p>
<p>The others ran forward, giggling like they were still in their school days. Draco stayed back, sipping on his beer and watching as the group rejoiced as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. </p>
<p>After Krum’s death, Granger had refused to take a leave of absence from her job. The funeral happened the Saturday after, and by Sunday she was back in Scandinavia, preparing lesson plans on Charms. Since then she had stopped by once or twice, but the others had gone and seen her in her Bulgarian home. Before Krum’s death, she’d lived there full time. Afterwards, from what he’d heard from Potter, she’d chosen to take up residence at one of the many empty teacher’s quarters at Durmstrang.</p>
<p>
  <span>In truth, they had probably all seen her no less than two weeks ago. Being Britain’s angel meant she had nearly unfettered access to portkeys. A simple raise of her eyebrows or a tasteful pouty lip and she’d be at any destination she wanted. Her many sporadic trips to vacation in Australia proved this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fancy a drink, Mione?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes. Leave it to Weasley to try and put the moves on Granger just hours after his fling with Brown exploded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger beamed at him. “Why yes, Ronald. I’d love one.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She reached into the beaded bag that she always carried and pulled out a large, expensive looking bottle. Draco scowled once he realized he was no longer able to identify the year of a good bottle of scotch just by a glance. He’d really lost his touch once his finances had been locked behind a vault so thick not even the Golden Trio and a dragon could break through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyone fancy some liquor that won’t give them an aching hangover the next day?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter raised his glass in salute. Ginny threw her hands in the air and cheered. Weasley placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her into the living room. Theo appeared at his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is four months enough time?” Theo was watching as Granger smoothed out her skirt while laughing at something Ginny said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told Potter best behavior, and somehow I hardly think seducing a newly minted widow would qualify.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She looks good. Better than last time.”</span>
</p>
<p>Last time Draco had seen her was about a month and a half ago, when she’d last visited. Her husband’s death had still been pretty fresh at the time and it showed. She had been thin, even thinner than he remembered seeing her at the Battle of Hogwarts. Her hands constantly shook, and at the time, despite what Draco said this morning, she might have actually been broken by what Theo had said. If she was, she hadn’t shown it, but Draco knew one didn’t need to openly bawl to feel like they were falling to pieces. </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re moving on from the I’m-so-sorry-for-your-loss period to the awkward don’t-bring-up-her-ex-husband.” Draco shrugged. “Time’s going on. She can’t grieve forever. Doesn’t mean you should fuck her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But if she were to come on to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco scoffed. “Nott, you’re drunk and it’s not even nine. Anyone coming on to you in your state would be a gross exaggeration of your imagination.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have all weekend, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco thought about that. Four months could be a long time, depending on what you looked at. It was a long time for a block of cheese to sit in their fridge. It felt like a blink of an eye at Hogwarts. Was it enough time for someone to sleep with another man after the loss of their husband? He wasn’t sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s a grown woman, she can make her own decisions. Besides, I’m not your keeper and I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>not hers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As long as Potter won’t come after me the next day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a pipe dream and you know it.” Draco pushed off the wall. “Now come on, now that everyone’s here we can really get started.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo shook his head. “You just want Ginny to put on that senseless muggle music.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One play through of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Baby One More Time </span>
  </em>
  <span>later, Draco found himself sitting on the couch with none other than Hermione Granger herself. The others were up, using the loo, gathering a fresh drink, or— in Theo’s case— dancing to the silent room while he scavenged through Ginny’s rather large collection of CD’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Theo plans to allow you to seduce him this weekend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger turned to him, brows raised and a tiny smile playing at the edge of her lips. She was in the process of lifting her drink to sip from it, but paused with it in mid air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I expect him to put the moves on tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, he expects you to do the wooing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger shook her head, lips pressed together to hold in her laughter. “I’m sorry, he thinks I’m going to pursue him as if this is the Renaissance, but reversed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How very rude of you to forget that Pureblood culture kept those types of relationship courtings very much alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suspect you’re relieved those have been recently dropped. Whose arm did your parents want on you? Millicent Bulstrode? Tracey Davis?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Astoria Greengrass,” Draco sipped from his drink, keeping his eyes on Theo as he carelessly discarded CD’s until he found one he fancied. “Lucky for me a stint in Azkaban was enough to have their family rescind the proposal agreement.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger rolled her eyes, placing a challenging stare on Draco. “You were in Azkaban for three weeks, Malfoy, only while you awaited trial. I happen to know that is half the amount of time that Mr. Greengrass spent before he was put on house arrest.”</span>
</p>
<p>If Draco wasn’t a master of masking his emotions, he might have reacted. But he was, so he didn’t.</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those purebloods really are so hypocritical, aren’t they?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger shrugged before rising. “Keep your secrets, Malfoy. I’ve got enough of my own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, Draco </span>
  <em>
    <span>drank. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not in a typical Friday night routine, which might result in needing to gather your bearings before standing, but certainly not in the slurring words that were coming out of his mouth just a few moments ago as he sang </span>
  <em>
    <span>Drops of Jupiter</span>
  </em>
  <span> shamelessly back to back with Ginny.</span>
</p>
<p>No one mocked him luckily, because everyone else seemed to be in a similar situation. Potter was laying upside down on the couch attempting to catch the popcorn Theo was throwing towards him. Unfortunately for Potter, Theo was attempting “trick shots”, which consisted of under the leg and behind the back tosses that landed nowhere near the couch. After a particularly bad throw, Potter ended up toppling over his head and landing on the floor. He blinked up confusedly as Ginny doubled over in laughter. Theo continued to throw popcorn his way, completely oblivious to his capsized partner.</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger and Weasley were off to the side, sharing one couch cushion and talking seriously with their heads close together. Every now and again Granger would shake her head or Weasley would raise his brows, but other than that Draco couldn’t tell what the conversation was about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, the two of them were being pegged with popcorn.</span>
</p>
<p>“Oi, you two! No secrets allowed! Either share with the rest of us or save it for a much more hungover state of mind.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger laughed, rising and walking towards Theo. She extended her hand toward him and Theo twirled her out immediately. Draco raised his eyebrows towards Theo, who winked in return. Draco turned to eye Weasley, who was watching them with his lips pressed together. He didn’t look angry, perhaps confused was a more accurate word. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d be perplexed as well, if I were you,” Draco said as he sat next to Weasley. “Your ex-girlfriend that you never </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>moved on from is now single, but it's due to horrible circumstances. You’re trying to decide when it is appropriate to make a move.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the past, a taunt like this would immediately mean an imminent fist fight was on the horizon. For the first year that Draco lived at Grimmauld they weren’t allowed in the same room unless they were both appropriately boozed up. Not sober enough that they might remember to keep up their rivalry, but not too drunk that they would make stupid comments and fly off the broom handle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now though, the two seemed to fall into a comfortable enough state of being. Draco wouldn’t call it friendship. In fact, he balked at the very thought. But as it stood, they hadn’t thrown fists at each other in over two years. They actually got along better than him and Potter most days, though Potter claimed it was because they were field partners at work and spent too much time together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just want her to be happy,” he insisted. “I’m not trying to gain anything from Krum’s death.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you trying to convince here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weasley sat back with his arms crossed. “Look, you’re not all wrong here. When Hermione left for Scandinavia and picked up her relationship with Viktor, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>still love her. And if she were the same girl that up and left, I’d probably put my conscience aside and go for it. But the fact is she’s not the same as she was in Hogwarts, and that’s the person I fell in love with.”</span>
</p>
<p>Draco raised his eyebrows. That anyone would openly admit to preferring swotty, know it all Granger was beyond him. “So you’re saying you wouldn’t sleep with her if the opportunity came up?”</p>
<p>
  <span>Weasley snorted. “I’m under no oath to answer that. Just get out of here with your Ron and Hermione bullshite. It’ll never happen like that. Not that I’d ever thought you’d care past taunting me about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>Draco shrugged. “Have to grow up sometimes, yeah?”</p>
<p>
  <span>Weasley rose then, joining the beckoning hands of his sister as they all danced in a small circle, surrounded by the area that used to possess their coffee table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco sat and watched, wondering himself why he was suddenly so curious about Hermione damn Granger.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Bubbling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another fun chapter! Enjoy them while they last</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next morning Draco woke with a splitting headache and the urge to lean over his bed and vomit whatever meek dinner Theo had forced down his throat before being tucked into bed last night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere along the night, Theo had stopped drinking out of control and Draco had picked up his slack. After his chat with Weasley, which Draco wagered happened some time just before midnight, he knocked back cheap firewhiskey shots as if someone might pry them from his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That someone turned out to be Theo— but only after Draco had downed six within thirty minutes. By the time Theo had dragged him away from the living room Draco had been stumbling. Well, they both had been, but Draco was in an even more sorry state than his friend. If he recalled correctly, Theo practically carried him up the stairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco rolled over slowly, hands coming up to rub at his temples, which only seemed to intensify the pain. His stomach rolled in protest. It was times like these when he wished the brewing and distribution of hangover potions hadn’t been made illegal. Unfortunately, two years ago, after the Britain Wizarding World saw a concerning spike in hangover draught that it was made to be an unlawful substance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Minister had uttered some bull shite about “condoning out of control drinking.” At the time, Draco hadn’t cared much. At the age of nineteen he could drink himself comatose, get next to zero sleep and still make it to work on time with nothing more than an upset stomach. At first he had attributed it to his young age and fast metabolism, but after one night out with Potter he’d realized it was because he’d never </span>
  <em>
    <span>drank </span>
  </em>
  <span>enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night after his first Friday spent with the Grimmauld crew he was bedridden for the rest of the weekend. Theo had come in to mock him, and the next time he’d come up— with soup, crackers and ginger essence— he’d brought along Potter and what felt like the entire Weasley family.  They spent the next hour cajoling his lack of drinking control while Draco vowed to never </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>get that lost again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the exception of last night, he’d kept to his promise. Draco groaned and attempted to peel open his eyelids. He flinched at the sunlight that was peering in through his open blinds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Does he never think of the future? Was he not aware of what a sorry state he’d be in the morning? He cursed himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Below him, he heard the telltale clink of cutlery that meant there were at least a few other members of the house already awake.</span>
</p>
<p>Draco had a few options here. He could either lie in bed all day, bemoaning his sorry state and attempting to keep whatever food he had in his stomach— thus resulting in relentless torture and teasing from his housemates— or he could get up, vomit into his toilet like a man and head downstairs to pretend he wasn’t near as sick as he felt.</p>
<p>
  <span>He slowly rose himself up. Damn him and his pride. If Potter was out of bed then he wasn’t to be outdone. He’d have to make an appearance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a painful bathroom experience that consisted of Draco vomiting in the toilet </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>the shower, he put on a game face and headed downstairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the kitchen, he was met with a myriad of green, miserable looking faces. Ginny had her head lying down on the table, hair fanned out along her shoulders. Theo stared at a plate of scrambled eggs with unadulterated horror. Potter and Weasley were nowhere to be found. Draco was relieved he needn’t keep up his farce. Though he did try, just a bit. He didn’t want to be the sorriest sap here.</span>
</p>
<p>“Good morning, Malfoy.” Granger plopped a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. Draco grimaced, looking away as his stomach churned uneasily. Granger shook her head, wiping her hands on a towel.</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ll help settle your stomach, I promise.” She pointed towards the other two. “I’ve already tried telling them. Theo’s frozen in fear and I suspect Ginny’s gone back to sleep.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moan from the youngest Weasley sibling let them know that she was conscious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you keep talking about food I’m going to aim my vomit stream towards you.”</span>
</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head while she ran her fingers through Ginny’s hair. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who is merely looking out for your best interest.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco, not wanting to be out performed by Granger, raised a forkful to his mouth. He chewed once, twice, three times before attempting a swallow. Immediately he could feel his body’s attempt to reject it. He doubled down on his efforts, fist clenching around his fork, feeling the slimy eggs as they slithered down his throat and settled like lead in his stomach. He pushed the plate away ceremoniously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Weak. All of you.” Granger seemed amused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you so chipper this morning?” Theo asked, raising his head towards Granger. “And can I have some? No one has to know.” His eyes turned pleading. “I’ll sell my first born to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s called not drinking like I’m in the Gryffindor common room.” She shook her head at Theo, but Draco could see she was biting back a smile. “I don’t have any illegal hangover draught, and even if I did you’d need to come up with a much better asking price than your first born. Heaven knows I don’t want to be responsible for the Theo’s of this world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo had it in him to feign hurt. He placed a hand to his chest. “That’s harsh, Granger. And here I thought we’d made a connection last night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You asked me when I’d got fit. That hardly counts as flirting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Women.” Theo shook his head. “They say they want honesty, but then you give it to them and they reject you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suspect no woman has ever asked you to be more honest,” Ginny’s muffled reply came. She had buried her head in her elbow, presumably attempting to block out the light from the blinds Granger just opened. “If anything, I’m sure they’ve requested you act less like yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo stood suddenly, looking like all the color had drained from his face. “I’ll not sit here and be insulted. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned for the stairs and hurried up them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t be vomiting if you would have given the eggs a shot!” Granger called up after him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco swung around (slowly, and with grace) to face Ginny. “Where are Potter and Weasley?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny lifted her head, squinting against the light. “Harry was too ill to get out of bed and I suspect Ron’s sleeping like the dead through his hangover.” She blew a piece of her fringe from her eyes. “It’s not fair. Ron drinks like a sixteen year old trying to get over their boyfriend twice a week and never seems to have any consequences. I took it </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly </span>
  </em>
  <span>too far one night and I paid the price for all those other times I barely skirted vomiting in the club loo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not everyone.” Ginny glared enviously. “Not you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco fought the urge to lift his glass of orange juice in cheers. Last night was splotchy at best, but he still could have sworn Granger always had a drink in her hand. If he thought hard enough to intensify the pounding in his head, he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>acquiesce the possibility that she wasn’t sipping from her cup as often as the others. If he looked into it even deeper— and this was really pushing the limits of what his mind would allow before it completely clamped down and shut him out— there was the possibility that she wasn’t refilling her cup at the same rate as the rest of the group.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not me, not yesterday,” Granger corrected. “You never know what the future holds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After an extensive and much needed recovery nap, Draco awoke to the scene of Theo pulling shirts out of his wardrobe and discarding them haphazardly onto the floor. Draco raised his head off his pillow and squinted towards the man. If looks could kill, this one wouldn’t even maime. Give him five minutes though, and he was sure he could work up something to make the Malfoy family proud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can think of six different hexes that will put you out of commission for a week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo didn’t look up from his task. “And they’ll all get you sent back to Azkaban.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be worth it if you don’t put that custom made silk back on the hanger where it belongs.” Draco reached for his wand under his pillow. Theo jumped up and held his hands in surrender.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right, all right! I was just seeing if you had anything that would impress Granger, but it seems you’re lacking as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lacking?” Draco sat up. “Lacking in what, crazy delusions?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something that Ginny calls the </span>
  <em>
    <span>it factor.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco squeezed his eyes shut. “You realize you’ve truly lost it, right? I’m not sure there’s even a knut worth of sanity left up there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo stuffed Draco’s shirt back into the wardrobe with reckless abandon. Draco flinched and fired a tripping hex at him. Theo promptly fell over his own feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>be filing a report about this on Monday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck off, Nott.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Getting fucked is exactly why I’m here, Draco.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In my room?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On this planet.”</span>
</p>
<p>Draco threw his pillow at Theo as he ran out of the room.</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night, to celebrate Granger being back in England for one more day, the group decided to head out to a club. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>puts their hands on my stomach without permission, I swear to Merlin I’ll start firing hexes without a second thought.”</span>
</p>
<p>“You should wear a crop top,” said Granger. Draco was sitting with his legs thrown over the arm of the couch, watching as the girls applied their last touches of make up. </p>
<p>
  <span>“Crop top?” Ginny furrowed her brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Granger pulled at the hem of the muggle shirt she was wearing. To Draco’s surprise, she raised it up so that her navel was showing. “It falls around here, not at the pants line. The majority of pregnant ladies don’t wear it. Besides.” she turned back to the tiny mirror in her palm and applied a layer of lipstick, “a pureblood witch wearing something so scandalous would probably rule out any other headlines.”</span>
</p>
<p>Ginny pursed her lips, looking down at the simple robes she was wearing. “Do you know where I could get one?”</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger rose to her feet. “I’ve got quite a few packed. Do you have those muggle skirts we bought last month? I think I know just the outfit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time the girls reappeared in the room, Pansy and Blaise had arrived and the other boys were waiting. When Ginny sauntered down the stairs in high heels and the most muggle outfit Draco had ever seen, Potter nearly fell out of his seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well?” She twirled in a slow circle then faced her boyfriend. “Do you think anyone will put me on baby watch tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter opened and closed his mouth three times. Theo patted him on the back consolingly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Muggle clothes really are just that much better,” he said, throwing a wink towards Ginny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your shirt…” Potter began, “it’s shorter than I remember.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger rolled her eyes. “It’s meant to help show off assets, Harry. It’s not like Dudley’s hand-me-downs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a bit more gawking from the boys, and a high five from Pansy, the three girls led them towards the apparition point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At dinner Granger plopped herself down between Theo and Draco. Theo sat up straighter and immediately engaged her in conversation. He was ever the pureblood gentleman, pouring her wine and sending cushy enough compliments to make her blush. Theo might actually have a chance of sealing this deal, if he didn’t blow it at the last minute. He had a tendency to do that very thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the club they were escorted to a private table. Weasley and Potter insisted it wasn’t necessary, but after a slap on the wrists from Pansy they shut their mouths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a busy night and the dancefloor was crowded. Personally, Draco hated clubs. There wasn’t much else to do besides dance and he could never get into the techno beats enough to enjoy himself. He preferred the </span>
  <em>
    <span>popcorn </span>
  </em>
  <span>muggle music that Ginny hoarded in their living room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could sit back and watch, but that just drew attention to how many eyes were on their group. They were all treated like celebrities, and Draco could get behind that, but he hated the ogling. He had felt like he was on display the majority of his life. He wanted some time to himself. It was hard to figure out who you were when the news headlines were always claiming something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>About two hours in Granger plopped down beside him. Everyone else was on the dance floor. He looked over to see Pansy grinding against a hypnotized stranger, but the others were out of sight, too deep into the crowd to be spotted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tired already?” he asked over the music. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger picked up the bottle of firewhiskey and poured two shots. She handed one glass over to him and swallowed hers. “Needed a drink break,” she said, lips pulling back against the burn of the alcohol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco tossed his back as well, but managed to suppress his grimace. </span>
</p>
<p>“I figured Theo would have you occupied for the rest of the night.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger rolled her eyes. “Theo was a lot of fun, for the five minutes he’s spent with me since we arrived.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco furrowed his brow, turning towards Granger so he could see her directly. Her face was flushed and sweat glittered across her collar bones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He ditched you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged. “He’s been dancing with Harry and Ginny for a bit now.”</span>
</p>
<p>“Are you really so boring that he’d leave you for a couple?”</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not boring!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh really? Because Theo was all about you tonight, but you couldn’t hold his interest past dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger dropped her jaw and turned to Draco with a shocked look. “I’ll have you know if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>Theo’s attention— anyone’s attention for that matter— I would have no issue holding it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seemed to be enjoying his company earlier in the night. You just changed your mind that quickly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged. “I have the right to do whatever I want when it comes to the attention of people who have expressed interest in shagging me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Meaning you use them for the attention and then leave them dry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned her shoulders to face him head on. She looked angry; jaw clenched and shoulders tense. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just as much fun to work Hermione Granger up now as it had been when they were in school.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t owe anyone anything. If I stripped Theo naked with his cock in my mouth and then changed my mind halfway through, I wouldn’t feel bad about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there anything you would feel bad about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco leaned over to pour himself another shot. He raised his eyebrows at her, but she shook her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s look at the facts, shall we?” He lifted his hand and began listing off his fingers. “You’re a war hero that is leading the muggleborn rehabilitation at the most prejudiced magic school in the world— successfully, I might add— and on the weekend you help the Bulgarian Ministry hunt down missing Death Eaters. Within the two months since you’ve joined the effort, the Bulgarian DMLE has seen a fifty percent increase in captured criminals.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger averted her stare. “The Bulgarian DMLE was full of lazy, pretentious Pureblood elite until I stepped foot in there. Anyone with the competency above a first year could have done the same.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But they didn’t, did they?” Granger clenched her jaw and shifted on the couch. “Over five years after the war and no one bothered to do anything about it, except you.”</span>
</p>
<p>“I’m doing what’s right,” she bit out.</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because no one else will, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>“Don’t put words in my mouth, Malfoy.”</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m not.” He sat back, watching the confusion pass over her. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>the one saying it. You’re the only who truly gives a damn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you work for the British DMLE?” She was flustered, and Draco loved it. Back in the day he was so careless with insults. It was satisfactory, sure, but he mostly got off on the shock factor of whatever flew from his mouth. Now, he enjoyed more nuanced arguments. Confusion and slip of the tongue talk was better than an accurately shot </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupefy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probation, Granger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how would the Wizengamot feel if I went and told them you’re not putting your best effort forth with your job?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who said anything about effort?” Granger furrowed her brow, opening her mouth to refute, but Draco cut her off. “I said you were the only one who cared, not that you were the only who was trying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stayed silent a beat too long. Draco pounced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Confused about the difference?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re Harry’s partner. How can you say he doesn’t care? He’s the one who defeated Voldemort for Merlin’s sake.”</span>
</p>
<p>“Yes and after seven years of being tortured by him after an abusive childhood, don’t you think he’s ready to move on?”</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one asked him to join the DMLE. He made that decision because he wanted to continue fighting for the light.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco let out a barking laugh. “And you believe the Ministry is the Light?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well certainly they try—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where were they when Voldemort took over, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>“That’s not fair—”</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how many extra funds have they allocated towards the capture of Death Eaters and sympathizers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s been five years, you can’t expect them to—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what about all those Death Eaters that got light sentences?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger poured herself a drink with a deep sigh and then stood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll not be a part of your pity party, Malfoy. If you have residual guilt over the part you played in the war, perhaps you should be doing something to make the world a better place. Or maybe visit a mind healer. I hear they can do wonders for PTSD.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco pointed a finger at her. “Which implies you believe I haven’t made proper amends.”</span>
</p>
<p>Granger drank deeply from her glass before slamming it down and shaking her head. “This is why we never talk. You can’t have a conversation without turning it on its head to try and make me feel as bad as you do.”</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a bold statement, coming from the girl that hasn’t relaxed since the end of the war.” He stood so that he would have the higher vantage point. “What are you so afraid of?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t realize you followed my life so closely.” She tilted her head. “Would you like an autograph while I’m in town?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not hard to see that you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>running. Are your demons really that bad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger’s jaw dropped and she stalked towards the exit. Draco followed with renewed vigor, feeling more alive than he had in months. </span>
</p>
<p>“You were gone within a month of my trial finishing and then within the year you’re married?”</p>
<p>She threw open the door, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind whipped. </p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I not allowed to find happiness and peace after sacrificing it for seven years?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter was going to kill him because he had asked only two things of Draco while Granger visited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t bring up her dead husband and don’t pick fights.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Draco couldn’t resist the urge. She was a lone island, solid despite the relentless waves that came crashing onto her shores. Meanwhile the rest of the wizarding world population had combined all their resources and they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>getting ravaged by the rough seas. Granger was in a league of her own and everyone knew it. They practically kissed the ground she walked on. When was the last time he’d seen her show even a fraction of genuine emotion outside of their little squabbles?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that what you call it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Falling in love and settling down?” she asked, ten steps ahead of him and picking up the pace. He could have turned back and dropped the entire argument. Then again, she could have apparated away at any point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You call what you’ve done </span>
  <em>
    <span>settling?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I followed the man I loved to his country and married him. I got a career and bought a house. I’m not sure what more you want from me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d finally caught up to her. He grabbed onto her shoulder and pulled back so she was standing still, facing him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you trying to fool here? Because I assure you, I’m not in the department of being easily convinced about bold faced lies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Under the hand that still rested on her shoulder, he felt her bicep tense. If he was punched right now, he honestly wasn’t sure what he’d do. No matter what it was, the papers would frame it to be his fault. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just because I’m not living my life the way you would doesn’t mean I’m doing anything wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never said you’re wrong. I said you’re running.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened her mouth, and for a moment Draco thought she was going to say something honest for the first time in five years. He watched as a wave of apprehension passed over her face, and suddenly she was pulling away, walking forward at a much slower pace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco listened as her heels clicked against the pavement. He hadn’t had any idea until now that she’d been wearing such inappropriate walking shoes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He continued to walk, just a few paces behind her. When she stopped, he did too. She turned slowly, her eyes on the concrete before they shot up and met his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just— I can’t believe I have to stand here and defend my ability to care and my willingness to put effort forth when no one else is. You’re villainizing me because you don’t understand my capacity to want better in the world. You think I must have some sort of underlying intent other than just wanting the people who did wrong to be properly punished and wanting those that suffered to feel safe once more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stepped towards him slowly, and despite their height difference, Draco felt so small. Her presence seemed to suck everything out of the environment. Logistically, he knew he was standing on the sidewalk outside of a park, but to him he felt as if all the color and light had seeped out. It was just Granger and him in a white room, void of all sound besides their breathing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck you </span>
  </em>
  <span>for that. For following me out here and attempting to make me feel bad because I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I understand that you hate yourself, Malfoy. Really, I do. Because you never wanted to do any of the extraordinarily bad things that you did. I understand that you were forced into them.” She stepped towards him again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly he couldn’t meet her eyes and he wanted to leave. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She was supposed to be the one looking inwards on herself and contemplating what she was doing. Yet here she was, spewing bull shit that he couldn’t confirm or deny. Mostly because he didn’t think about the war or anything that came before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The problem is,” she whispered, eyes raking down his form, “you’re so afraid to let that be true. You’re so used to being made into the villain of the story that you continue to force yourself into that narrative.” She was breathing heavy and Draco could smell the firewhiskey on her breath. He wanted to take a step back, but he’d learned at an early age to never show weakness in such an obvious manner. “But that’s not my problem. So next time you want to come and chat about my decisions, make sure you’re confident in the ones you’ve made. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And with that, she took a step back and apparated away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco was left on the sidewalk with a pounding head and aching stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning Draco woke early. He had come back to the house to find Granger making tea in the kitchen. No one else was home yet. He ignored her and headed upstairs to attempt and sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What a joke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Draco was exiting his room, he found Theo tiptoeing down the house, at the opposite end of the hall from where his room was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Theo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He froze, turning to face Draco with horror written plainly on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing up so early? And why are you on Potter’s end of the hallway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo turned a deep shade of red. He took a breath and then gestured down the stairs. When they were both sitting at the bar with coffee cups in their hands, he finally spoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Things got… weird last night.”</span>
</p>
<p>“Trust me, I couldn’t agree more.” Draco tapped his mug against Theo’s in solidarity. “So what happened? I know you ditched Granger because I caught her acting like she wasn’t cowed about it, but I’m positive she was.” Draco left out the part where she completely shattered his confidence and sanity with an eloquent monologue. Some things were better left between two people. </p>
<p>
  <span>“I— I think I was entranced by Ginny’s outfit. I’ve seen muggle girls before, even more scantily clad that she was last night. But just… the way she </span>
  <em>
    <span>acted </span>
  </em>
  <span>in them. I couldn’t stay away.” His eyes were wide. Almost looking haunted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Salazar Theo,” Draco rubbed at his temples. “You didn’t try and make a move on Potter’s girlfriend, did you?” Theo lowered his eyes to the table and Draco groaned. “Oh no. Do we need to pack your things? If we start now I’m sure you could be out before either of them wake up.”</span>
</p>
<p>“No, no Draco. I don’t need to leave. Potter isn’t kicking me out.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco furrowed his brow. “He was fine with you trying to make a move on Ginny?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo looked up with a pained expression. “I’m not sure how to explain this without shocking you unconscious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re freaking me out. Just come out with it already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was with—” he paused and took a breath. “I wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>flirting with Ginny last night.”</span>
</p>
<p>Draco tilted his head. “Theo, what in the hell happened?”</p>
<p>
  <span>“Last night at the club. Yes, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>started </span>
  </em>
  <span>flirting with Ginny. And she was flirting back, Draco. Oh, it was marvelous. She was dancing and laughing and we were drinking like I haven’t since the first night I got out of Azkaban.” Theo sipped from his coffee. “And then without even realizing it, Potter was there, dancing with us. With me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like the three of you— together?”</span>
</p>
<p>“It should have been weird, but it wasn’t. And then it was late and we were all three sloshed. We came back here and Ginny had both of our hands and was dragging us up the stairs towards Potter’s room.”</p>
<p>Draco placed a hand over his mouth. Theo seemed to be waiting for him to speak, but Draco was shocked into silence. </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please say something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please tell me you didn’t have a threesome with Potter and Ginny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo paused. “Please say anything else besides that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco slammed a palm against his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought for a sense of normalcy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Last night Granger had completely decimated him, and this morning he woke up to find his best friend had </span>
  <em>
    <span>slept with </span>
  </em>
  <span>the most famous man in the wizarding world and the captain of the Holyhead Harpies. He would argue she was the most famous Weasley (definitely the best, in his opinion), but that wasn’t worth the time and effort. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco peeked open an eye. “Well, how was it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo dropped his head into his hands. “It was bloody good. And not even just because I was drunk, I swear to Salazar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco patted him on the back and then pulled Theo to his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You slept with them. The right thing to do is to make a nice breakfast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Expects</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here’s your last bit of fluff before shit hits the fan!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If Draco expected an awkward fallout between Potter, Ginny and Theo, he was greatly disappointed. The other two came down to a grand, if not slightly burnt breakfast, acting as if things were normal. They didn’t seem to be averting eye contact and were even able to hold a conversation. If they noticed Theo’s bright red face, they didn’t say anything about it. If Draco hadn’t known, he would have thought nothing out of the ordinary had happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weasley came down not long after, and things seemed to move back into reality and away from whatever drunk, lust driven fantasy had been fulfilled last night. He began talking business and the joke shop, and suddenly Theo seemed to shake off the embarrassment and dawn his mask of indifference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Granger came down, he had forgotten about their squabble. She brushed past him without a greeting or glance in his direction. Clearly she wasn’t in the department of letting things go, and Draco wondered why that bothered him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Granger. They had nothing in common besides their love for irritating each other. He just took it too far last night. Potter was right, it was rude of him to bring up her late husband, even if he was still confident in his assumptions about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was no longer the child from school. He was more mature now, able to admit when he was wrong and able to apologize when need be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waited until everyone else had left the kitchen, sipping his coffee slowly as Granger read over the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daily Prophet. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She studiously ignored him, nibbling her toast with careful bites and speaking to everyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>but </span>
  </em>
  <span>him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it was just the two of them left, he cleared his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Granger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lifted her eyes from the article she was reading, placing a cold expression on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted to—” He cleared his throat once more. “I owe you an apology. For last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her silence was deafening, and for the first time Draco realized he might have actually hit a nerve. This wasn’t some elaborate, dramatic act to make him feel immature and stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that all?” she asked coldly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had no right to share my musings in that manner.” He swallowed against his dry throat. “Or to bring up Krum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dropped her eyes back to the paper, skimming it erratically. He could read her expressions, but they didn’t seem to give any inclinations to what she was thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” She nodded, standing. “Well, you’re still learning how to interact with decent humans, so I suppose I can’t take it too personally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco huffed out a dry laugh, standing and placing his hands on the table and leaning forward so they were eye to eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, I know I’ve changed because I’m photographed almost daily with the Boy Who Lived and I haven’t taken a swing at Weasley in a few years.” He gripped the edge of the table hard enough for the tips of his fingers to whiten. “So when I buck up and apologize, you don’t have to accept it. But there’s no reason to insult everyone I’ve ever come in contact with prior to getting with your golden crew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not looking to insult everyone,” she said, sipping from her mug, eyes never leaving his. “Just your parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the past, Draco might have snarled ill thought words, and perhaps even fired a jynx or two. Insulting his parents was a sure way to make fly off the broom handle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now, with his mother on house arrest for the next ten years and his father completing a life-sentence in Azkaban, the hit brought up a mix of fury and confusion. He wanted to defend them, but he wasn’t sure he should. Or could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he straightened his spine, narrowing his eyes while he brought up his Occlumency walls.</span>
</p><p>“You can say all you want about my parents, but if it weren’t for my mother being the way she is, including all the things you hate about her, Potter wouldn’t be alive, and you’d be in chains.”</p><p>
  <span>He walked away calmly, taking the stairs one at a time. Once he reached his room, he silenced the door and punched a hole into his wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t see Granger the rest of the day, and when he’d come down for dinner Theo informed him that she’d left a few hours prior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So sad to have missed it,” he replied drily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to worry.” Theo bit off the end of a Sugar Quill. The crunching sound made Draco’s teeth ache. “She said she’d be back next weekend.”</span>
</p><p>Draco froze, halfway through the spell to boil his pasta water. He turned toward Theo with his lips pressed together and eyes closed. </p><p>
  <span>“As in, five days from now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo nodded, clearly trying to repress a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She visits once every few months before, but now she’s coming two weekends in a row? That doesn’t seem suspicious to anyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like you said, she’s moving out of the mourning stage of her grief. She’s probably wanting to get out more now, live her life and all that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because she had such a grand time this weekend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo shrugged. “Why else would she come back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stayed silent. He couldn’t help but feel his torture was very high on Hermione Granger’s priority list.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco would never tell anyone, but he actually enjoyed his job and he liked being partners with Potter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he thought policing dark wizards was his destiny, but when it came to Wizengamot enforced labor, there were a lot worse things he could be doing, with a lot worse people.</span>
</p><p>It was a quick week with a record number of arrests. The amount of drunk and raucous fights always increased in the summer. Draco remembered the summer before his seventh year, filled with broken windows and the screams of muggles. No one knew what would be published in the papers the next morning. The ministry fell in one day. Those memories mixed with the sticky air of humid summer days and Draco couldn’t help but feel it would take more than a few years for that to wear off. </p><p>
  <span>So he had no problem in doing his part to keep people who were just trying to cope off the streets. The ministry cells weren’t the most comfortable, but there was a cot and a pillow for people to sleep off their intoxication. Once they were sober they were usually embarrassed, and most apologized. It took Draco months to realize people weren’t the same drunk as they were sober. That didn’t mean they turned into someone unrecognizable, just someone they’d tried to keep shut away for too long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By Friday, Draco had forgotten that Granger was stopping by once more. When she appeared through the flew Draco was three shots in. Her skirt-clad legs effectively killed his buzz. Not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Destiny’s Child </span>
  </em>
  <span>could chin him up. </span>
</p><p>Everyone else cheered and raised drinks excitedly in her direction. Her eyes were bright and wide and it was so hard to reconcile that face with the woman who had shamelessly flung insults in the kitchen less than a week ago.</p><p>Draco plopped down on the couch as she was herded to the kitchen. Theo raised a brow at him, but Draco waved him off. </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t need company tonight. He just needed himself and his beer. Maybe another shot or two but he refused to wake up with a hangover tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night was much more subdued compared to last week. Theo threw himself onto the couch next to Draco twenty minutes later and the others followed quickly. Draco noticed Potter and Ginny sat on the other side of Theo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ginny’s CD’s continued to play and everyone else pretended to be annoyed by the song choices. Mostly they just sat and talked. It was a nice change of pace and suddenly Draco didn’t feel the need to get so hopelessly drunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard you caught another Death Eater this week, Granger.” Theo raised his glass. “Cheers to that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger lowered her eyes to her lap. She was sitting on the arm of the chair Weasley was occupying. There were two other empty chairs in the room and a free spot on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Could she get anymore obvious?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was hiding in plain sight. It wasn’t as hard as it should have been. He’d been living downtown for years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo nodded. “Right. Well you’re either underselling yourself or no one else tried hard enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes shot up to meet Draco’s. She dropped them nearly as quick, but he hadn’t missed the motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m the one saying it. You’re the only one who truly gives a damn.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Twice in one week. Maybe she’d figured out he wasn’t just saying it to be a jerk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Bulgarian Ministry was in shambles even before the war. I’m sure reform just takes a bit more time than they were initially expecting.”</span>
</p><p>“Hard to convince those old tossers to change their minds,” Theo agreed. “They should just throw them out.”</p><p>
  <span>“If the Ministry loses them then they also lose their donations.” Draco folded his arms over his chest, trying not to sound as gloating as he felt. “They’re doing their best to save face, but they can’t afford change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s awful,” Ginny said. She spun her beer bottle in her hands absentmindedly. Her knee ghosted against Theo’s jean clad thigh. She turned her head towards Granger. “It sounds like, without you, these people would just be on the run forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger’s lips twitched and Draco braced himself for a bout of accidental magic. The cup he was holding was made of glass. He placed it on the coffee table and scooted it all the way towards the opposite edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Change is imminent, and they’ve already done a lot. It’s just— different over there. They all supported Voldemort but it wasn’t like Britain. They didn’t see firsthand the destruction that he caused, what his ideals truly meant—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or perhaps they knew exactly what he had planned and are disappointed it fell through,” Draco cut in, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees. Theo’s eyes tracked back and forth between the pair. Potter stood and excused himself to the kitchen nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger’s eyes lit up. The fury was rolling off of her in waves. She, too, was on the edge of her seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because the Malfoy’s were prejudiced bigots doesn’t mean every other old wizarding family in the world followed that model.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy shrugged, biting back a grin at her obvious irritation but refusing to take the bait. It would take more than that to make his temper flare out of control. He’d been working on his Occlumency shields since the moment he had found out she was planning on returning. His walls were spell proof, anything she said would bounce off and be deflected back to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said all purebloods. I know Longbottom and the Weasley’s took a different path.” Draco averted his eyes to Ron for a moment, who was sitting tense with a look of apprehension. “But they’re the rarity, aren’t they? And they waited for years for that loyalty to muggleborns to pay off. They were outcasts for decades before that, frowned down by the purebloods.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doing the right thing doesn’t always have </span>
  <em>
    <span>pay off,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Granger bit through clenched teeth. She was leaning so far forward she could place her hands on the coffee table. “It’s about doing what needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really think those old men who run the Bulgarian ministry are going to start doing things for the satisfaction of </span>
  <em>
    <span>being on the right side </span>
  </em>
  <span>after years of being dirty? Do you really think that they give even a single fuck about anything besides themselves and the amount of galleons weighing them down?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco actually did place his hands on the coffee table, but only so he could launch himself into a standing position. Granger followed him quickly, closing the space between them until they were no more than a step apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to think that even the most stubborn of people can pick the correct side when faced with the reality of a situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what is the reality, then?”</span>
</p><p>She took another step forward, pushing a finger into his chest hard enough to cause him to stumble back. </p><p>
  <span>“That muggleborns are here to stay, and the purebloods are outranked by those sullied with dirty blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t drop his gaze and he didn’t back down. He leant in closer, bending down slightly so she could peer into his cold, hard eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you think you’re outranked because a few half bloods picked your side in the war, you’ve no idea what money can buy.” He felt her exhale against his chest. “Nobody is loyal when galleons are in the mix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Money can’t buy me,” she grit out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They wouldn’t buy you,” Draco said. “They’d destroy you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Ginny’s hands were on Granger’s arm and she was being pulled away and dragged into the kitchen, followed by Ron. Draco was shoved backwards, falling into the armchair closest to the fireplace. A hand met the back of his head with a loud thwack. Theo squatted down in front of him, hands placed on the arms of the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you imagine,” he began, head tilting towards the ceiling and hand cradling his chin, “a world where someone congratulates Hermione for doing something great, and for one single time in your life, you don’t have to be an arse about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco clenched his jaw, arms crossing over his chest. “For someone who is touted as a war hero her naivety surpasses that of my baby cousin Teddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s out hunting Dark Wizards in her spare time, Draco.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes and one day I fear she might try and convince one to join her cause.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo raised his eyebrows. “Did you just say you fear for Hermione Granger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that really what you got out of that?” Draco shoved Theo to the ground and stood, walking away from the stifling heat of the fire. “She acts like a walking rehabilitation center when really she’s the one enabling them!” His hands were flying, gesturing wildly towards the door she’d just exited through and back towards the fireplace, which he assumed Theo knew meant he was gesturing the Floo network and referring to Bulgaria. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone’s just trying to make a difference in their own way. No one ever talks about the years after the war. The recovery, the trauma and pain of trying to find your new place in life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shook his head. Theo didn’t get it. He didn’t bear the mark on his arm. He hadn’t had a stint in Azkaban. He didn’t have any actions during the war to regret, except for his family’s loyalty and his own failure to intervene. Draco wished it was that simple for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only difference I’m trying to make is in lessening the number of work years the Ministry has forced me into.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo’s gaze was steady, and his eyes were so open and full of emotion that Draco flinched away. He could take many stares, most of them filled with hate, but Theo’s pity was something he didn’t need— or want.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So the moment your time has been spent and the Ministry clears you— what? You’re signing your resignation papers, leaving Potter and never looking back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco ran his fingers through his hair. “Do you think this is the life I would have chosen?”</span>
</p><p>“I think the life you would have chosen would have been much more miserable.”</p><p>
  <span>Theo was so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>sincere sometimes that Draco didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to walk away, wanted to pretend like this conversation had never happened because Draco didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>what the fuck to make of any of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he want to leave his job? Not necessarily. And he definitely wasn’t willing to admit that the thought of Potter taking up another partner sent a literal </span>
  <em>
    <span>pang </span>
  </em>
  <span>of anguish through his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Theo was staring at him with a challenge and Draco knew if he walked away, then he lost. And he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here, but if he lost then Granger won.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got years left to worry about whether I want to be a Ministry lackey for the rest of my life. Don’t put that kind of pressure on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve known you your whole life, Draco.” Theo’s voice was soothing, but it only served to speed up Draco’s pulse because now he felt like a cornered mythical creature, about to be caught and experimented on in the name of magical advancements. “I was there in sixth year when I thought the stress would eat you alive and I was there during your trials when you thought you’d die in Azkaban. I saw the changes. Small at first, but they’ve been there for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco averted his eyes to the left of Theo, glaring at the chair that Weasley had been settled in before all this. It was probably best he’d made himself scarce, Draco had the distinct feeling he’d punch him if he were here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In response to Theo, he merely picked up his bottle of beer and drank heavily from it, draining the liquid and slamming it back down on the table.</span>
</p><p>Theo rolled his eyes. “Let me know when you’re ready for an adult conversation about this. Harry has been wondering what your plans are.”</p><p>
  <span>Draco snapped his eyes towards Theo and glared sharply. “And you’re an expert in all things Potter suddenly?”</span>
</p><p>Theo stood for a moment more— long enough to convince Draco that he might actually whip out his wand and initiate a duel— before turning on his heel and walking through the kitchen door, leaving Draco alone with his musings and piss poor mood.</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t wait around downstairs to see if anyone else would come back out and face him. Part of him knew he should be embarrassed, and he was more than a bit cowed about his argument with Theo— the two boys hadn’t had a real, genuine fight since they’d thrown fists over who’d take Daphne Greengrasses virginity in fifth year. (Neither of them, as it would turn out.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Draco’s pride was large and he knew he’d made enough of a reasonable argument that there wasn’t much of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>for an apology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t brought up her deceased husband. He hadn’t made any points that he didn’t vehemently believe in. He’d just told her the truth, and fuck everyone else that had been holding it back because they deemed her too delicate. Granger was a lot of things, but fragile certainly wasn’t one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo had no business butting into his personal business like that. He could say whatever he wanted about Granger and his own personal musings on her, pretending he knew what was best for Draco? It was unthinkable.</span>
</p><p>So he retired to his room early, deciding to take to his bed early instead of adding another hole to the wall. </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he woke up the next morning, the sun was barely scraping the edges of his windowsill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wasn’t much of a sleeper. Between nightmares of his past and nightmares of what he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>capable </span>
  </em>
  <span>of, he didn’t find much peace in the act. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His anger was subdued, but he felt restless, the confines of his room feeling more like an Azkaban cell than it ever had. He rubbed his eyes anxiously and hopped out of bed, hoping for a new perspective that only a fresh pot of coffee could bring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was halfway down the stairs, eyes down and mind focused on occluding the anxiety away when he ran into Granger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Literally. His left shoulder bumped her right and she lost her footing, grabbing onto his arm for balance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face scrunched up in agitation and she opened her mouth to say something, but the look on his face must have stopped her, because she closed it sharply and let out a breath through her nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re up early.” She took a step back and leaned against the railing. </span>
</p><p>“I decided on an early night. What about yourself?”</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged, a small pull of her lips visible. “Not much of a sleeper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes, that would explain all of your extracurricular activities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger huffed. “Can’t even be civil for a simple passing conversation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shrugged. “That would be too easy. Too out of character for myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” she whispered, stepping closer to him with a familiar smirk, “you don’t have to go and make yourself the bad guy in every situation. What are you afraid of?”</span>
</p><p>The nerves in Draco’s stomach twinged and he threw up an extra Occlumency wall. He was more practiced than he used to be, but wasn’t used to needing to be on guard in his own home. Only pulled all of them out when an unwanted feeling made itself known. </p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever considered, Granger, that I don’t need to try nearly as hard as you think I do? Perhaps I’m just naturally your enemy.”</span>
</p><p>Her eyes travelled slowly from his shoulders, to his face, until she met his gaze with an open expression. He faltered under it. </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t used to being the center of attention. He spent ninety percent of his time standing next to the Boy Who Lived, which was much like being just on the outside of a spotlight. He preferred it this way, honestly. He was still featured in gossip pieces and he was given credit when something spectacular happened at work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overall, he was happy to not pick up the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daily Prophet </span>
  </em>
  <span>and see his name smeared as a prejudiced bigot. Which he had been. But he had changed. He was still changing, trying to earn the place he’d been lucky enough to receive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was nice— to have someone focused solely on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger was a puzzle piece, the way she’d been trying to insert herself into different places, trying to make herself fit naturally. And Draco had treated her like a riddle to be solved this past week. He wanted to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why what?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Well… he wasn’t sure yet. But he knew he wasn’t done inspecting or searching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think the only person it takes no effort to hate is oneself.”</span>
</p><p>… And Draco had never considered she might be studying him the same way. </p><p>
  <span>He liked the outskirts. He wanted to be out of the way. But, if that left him touch starved, he couldn’t be responsible for what happened when someone was finally reaching out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leant in with complete confidence, as if she knew what she was doing— as if she knew exactly what Draco liked. As if they’d done this before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips were warm, and a better distraction to his growing anxieties than Occlumency. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the Golden Girl, he thought as he brought his hands up to bury in her hair— so soft, wild but controlled, like a bonfire on cold winter nights. She was everything that was good in this world, from her brainy ways in childhood all the way to her ridiculous Death Eater capturing stunts she currently participated in. She didn’t have a single evil bone in her body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet here she was, pinning him against a wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was responsive, turning her head as he opened his mouth, tongue meeting his, her teeth closing around his lower lip as he sucked on her upper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran her hands down his chest and began unbuttoning his shirt quickly. His legs nearly fell out from under him as he realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sex. Right here on the stairs. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was risky, of course. Anyone could come out and see them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw Theo sneak into Harry and Ginny’s room when they thought I’d gone to bed.” She flipped them around and made quick work of her own muggle sweatpants, pulling them down just past her knees. </span>
</p><p>Draco could only watch, hands still buried in her hair and eyes wondering to take in all the new skin being presented to him.</p><p>She sighed and snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Are we doing this or not?”</p><p>It wasn’t what he expected out of her. She seemed like the type to want to go slow, who would wait three months into the relationship to even let a bloke touch her tits.</p><p>Draco couldn’t explain why the sudden change in character was such a turn on.</p><p>She traveled down his neck with wet, sloppy kisses that raised goosebumps on his arms as his hand slithered down below her knickers.</p><p>
  <span>She keened then, head dropping back against the wall and eyes dropping closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wondered how long it had been since another man had touched her. Had she been with anyone since Krum died?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought that he’d been the first— that she’d been just as desperate for human contact as he, and she’d turned to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She slapped his hand away suddenly, grabbing him and lining him up.</span>
</p><p>Her eyes bore into his. “Are you sure you’re fine with fucking a mudblood?” Her tone was derisive. He tightened his hold on her hair and gave her a bruising kiss.</p><p>“Shut up or I might change my mind.”</p><p>It was rough and rather loud, her back banging against the wall and her lack of caring at being quiet. She moaned, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut as he pounded into her, not caring if she got off or not.</p><p>
  <span>“Not even going to try clit stimulation?” she asked, eyes clouded. Her hands tore down his back. “Most girls can’t get off without it. I figured someone such as yourself would know that. Or claim to, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some maybe,” he pulled her in closer, until they were chest to chest and he could feel her hot breath fanning against his chin. “But not you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a bold move to assume, he knew, but he could feel her pulsing around him, fluttering lightly and she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>close </span>
  </em>
  <span>damn it, why did she have to try and antagonize him like that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he would reach for her clit when he was closer, if the damn bint had any </span>
  <em>
    <span>patience </span>
  </em>
  <span>at all—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now his hands would stay firmly above the waist, and she only had herself to blame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kind of hoped she didn’t get off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was picturing her scrunched up face and annoyed huff passing through her lips when she finally found release, legs tensing up from where they were locked behind his hips and back arching off the wall as breathy noises fell from her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like an honor, to watch her fall apart like that. To have a person so put together, so organized and fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>on top of it</span>
  </em>
  <span> lose control— if only for a moment— it felt like something he couldn’t get enough of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed her soon after, because even though he wanted this to last longer, they were— quite literally— banging on the stairs and the last thing he needed was for Weasley to come down and soil his good mood by throwing fists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let her down and she began righting her clothes, running fingers through her hair even though not a single strand was out of place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t surprised when I told you about Theo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shrugged, lining the buttons of his shirt up. “Hardly anything Theo does surprises me. He thrives off chaos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crossed her arms over her chest. “I think you’re lying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I owe you an explanation because you seduced me on a staircase?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mouth dropped and her eyebrows furrowed. She raised her arms into the air, looking exasperated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Seduced you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I do believe </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>were the one that leaned in first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She balled her hands into fists and turned, charging down the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” She turned once she reached the bottom. He’d just been about to head back to his room, anxieties suddenly the furthest thing from his mind, when he spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I don’t recall making bedroom eyes at you or—”</span>
</p><p>“You could have said no had you wanted to!”</p><p>Draco stood up straighter, placing a hand to his chest. “Really?” He shook his head, feigning amazement. “You should have mentioned that before you defiled me.”</p><p>A door burst open to their right and Potter was standing there, wand in his hand, with Ginny standing just inches behind him, looking murderous. </p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” he asked, eyes wide. </span>
</p><p>Draco peered over his shoulder and into the room. “Is Theo hiding?” Potter’s spine stiffened. Draco rolled his eyes. “You guys couldn’t be anymore obvious.”</p><p>Granger climbed up a few steps to meet Potter’s eyes. </p><p>
  <span>“All three of you come downstairs for breakfast. I want to hear all about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him, he heard Ginny mutter, “all of it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco shuddered and walked back to his room. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m on tumblr, Twitter and Facebook. @hiccupfound<br/>Come scream with me!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Toxicity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you guys enjoyed the fluff while it lasted</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The stairway incident— as it would come to be known— would be a topic beaten dead for the next three weekends. In which, Hermione Granger, who had currently resided in only the darkest corners of his mind, was a constant presence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t talk much the first two weekends— anytime there was a possibility of being left alone, Ginny or Harry or Theo would come up with a reason that one of them needed to be herded from the room and—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it was infuriating. Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the one acting as if nothing had happened. Over drinks or meals when he tried to catch her eyes, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>ignored </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, and if she did accidentally happen to meet his gaze then she’d send him nothing but a polite wave and then— just </span>
  <em>
    <span>turn away,</span>
  </em>
  <span> as if there were more interesting things to worry about or look at and it was driving him </span>
  <em>
    <span>mad. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>His streak of being Weasley violence free was broken that third weekend after the stairway incident. </p>
<p>
  <span>The first two weekends, he’d feigned disinterest and insisted that Hermione’s bedpost notches were none of his business, that he was working on fixing his relationship with Lavender and he couldn’t care less. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next weekend, however, things with Lavender had blown up in his face something spectacular during their outing that Friday night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The front page of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Daily Prophet </span>
  </em>
  <span>was plastered with proof of their public break up: a moving image of a sobbing Lavender Brown dragging her palm across Weasley’s face, hard enough that he stumbled into a pair of trash cans nearby. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was itching for a fight that night, reasonably so. Draco had always been an easy target and he could hardly </span>
  <em>
    <span>blame </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, but it was irritating nonetheless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t much for them to fight about these days. They didn’t work together, and the pair of them made excellent roommates. Always cleaned up after themselves, never ate dinner at the same time. There was nothing, really, that he could poke holes into. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until Hermione </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>Granger decided she was lonely and horny. And suddenly, in a complete change of heart from the previous week, Weasley felt Draco had </span>
  <em>
    <span>taken advantage </span>
  </em>
  <span>of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop it, Ronald,” she scolded. “I’m my own adult and can make my own decisions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he was nasty when he got this drunk, swaying on his feet and face carved out of stone. Any hopes of talking sense into him were long gone, so Draco planted his feet and did what he did best. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Talked complete and utter bullshit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You cannot </span>
  <em>
    <span>take advantage </span>
  </em>
  <span>of someone that has willingly stripped naked on the stairs of the house she’s visiting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steam practically came out of his ears. He stormed forward, fist in the air and Draco did nothing to attempt to block it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His ears rang with the impact and he stumbled back under the pressure. Blood dropped from his nose and the copper taste tainted his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco had him on the ground in seconds, fists flying and oh, how he </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>fighting like muggles. Giving in to the angriest of instincts and just letting everything black out. Just for a moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was over almost as quickly as it started. Theo’s arms wrapped around Draco’s shoulders and heaved him back while Potter dragged a thrashing Weasley into the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His screams were silenced with a wave of Ginny’s arm. For a moment, she seemed conflicted on which direction to go and it warmed Draco’s heart because Weasley was her brother but they were close, too. She’d been the first one besides Potter to be able to see anything other than the mask he set for the rest of the world, and seeing that it meant something to her as well— it was important. </span>
</p>
<p>Loyalties had to be drawn at some point though, and she pulled herself reluctantly to the kitchen. </p>
<p>
  <span>He was in an armchair then and Granger approached.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You go with Ginny, Theo. I’ve a feeling Ron needs to be talked off a ledge.</span>
</p>
<p>A damp cloth appeared in her hand and she pressed it gently to his bleeding lip. </p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t let Ron treat you like that,” she admonished. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>let </span>
  </em>
  <span>Weasley do anything. But being prepared for his fist is much better than being knocked out cold. Trust me, I would know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flinched when she pressed particularly hard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to egg him on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>off, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Granger. Don’t pretend like you know anything about mine and Weasley’s relationship. Him and Brown will be back together by next week, and I’ll be on the receiving end of an apology not long after.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cloth disappeared from her hand and she conjured another, this one filled with ice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, either way. Ron may have been searching for an excuse, but I’m sorry I gave him one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you always have to stick you </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>holier than thou head in places where it doesn’t belong?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her jaw dropped, hand tightening on the ice as it sat frozen in midair. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Excuse me?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apologizing for things that hardly involve you at all. I told you Granger, he was looking for a fight. I could have forgotten to use a coaster tonight and he would have knocked me out. It doesn’t matter whatever bull shit excuse he came up with.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He snatched the ice out of her hand and threw it down on the table beside him, leaning forward to hover over her kneeling figure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think you’re so much better than everyone else. That you can fix the fucking world with your niceties, but let me give you that much needed reality check.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She swallowed, eyes narrowing. She did not move to refute so Draco carried on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You might have everyone else fucking fooled, but I can see it. That terrified little girl that felt like she didn’t belong— still feels it, so desperately that she has to insert herself in every which way just so people can fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>praise </span>
  </em>
  <span>her, fill that stupid void of self doubt that tells you that you aren’t good enough but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m not here to buy it. I’m not here to soothe you or— or fucking remind you of all your merits and war herione status. I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care, </span>
  </em>
  <span>so </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave me alone.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand had wrapped around the back of her neck and he was breathing heavy from his— fucking speech, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christ </span>
  </em>
  <span>what was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him? And he expected tears or a hurt expression or maybe even a slap to the face but—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he did not expect blown pupils and her own heaving chest to come in contact with his as she straddled his lap and smashed her lips onto his, immediately parting them and— and her tongue was </span>
  <em>
    <span>invading </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, like warships breaking down his defenses until he was mindless and he could not </span>
  <em>
    <span>think. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not about anything except the witch in his lap, who was absolutely taking over, gasping into his mouth and grinding her hips against his hard cock and— Salazar, when had that happened? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She scrambled off his legs and grabbed him by the hand, yanking him up the stairs— </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>stairs, the very same where they’d first fucked and that was all he could think about as she shoved him into her bedroom and slammed the door shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was thrown down on the bed and his brain had </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>not caught up by the time his shirt and pants were removed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was intoxicating, watching as she stripped out of her clothes and covered his body with hers, lips moving down his neck, licking a line back up to his jaw and biting down there, so hard that his cock twitched and his hips bucked and he was losing </span>
  <em>
    <span>control, </span>
  </em>
  <span>maybe hadn’t had any since Weasley threw that punch—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her underwear were gone and she sank down on him with absolutely no finesse and he hadn’t touched her, not yet, but she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>filthy </span>
  </em>
  <span>wet and he could not bite back the moan. Could not fight them as they only seemed to grow as she bounced on him with reckless abandon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His orgasm was building with embarrassing speed and he could not take his eyes off of her tits as they bounced and gods, he was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mess. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand flew to her clit and he’s not sure where the change of heart had come from. Three weeks ago he cared nothing if she orgasmed and now he didn’t think he could look her in the eyes if she didn’t finish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rode him shamelessly, pushing towards the feel of his fingers and he was barely holding on when she pulsed around him and he nearly sighed in relief before he was holding her hips against him, pulsing into her erratically and biting back a groan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She climbed off him before his mind came all the way back, redressing quickly and leaving before he even pushed to his elbows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They carried on like that for months. Fighting. Fucking. Ignoring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Repeat. </span>
</p>
<p>Sometimes they argued about meaningless things. Like muggle television shows or what music to play while they drank on weekends. </p>
<p>They’d angrily and loudly debate about potion ingredients or which binding spells were considered inhumane in the field of duty. Talk about where the line should be drawn at what students should be taught about Dark Magic. </p>
<p>
  <span>Others were worse. Much more toxic. Times where they screamed at each other about the war or Dumbledore or the handlings of his trial. </span>
</p>
<p>He called her names and ripped apart her facade of a put together professor. Shredded apart her reasoning for hunting down ex-Death Eaters. </p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes she’d cry. He’d fuck her, no matter what. Did not mind the taste of salty tears on her lips. Fed off her insecurities in a way he didn’t understand. Had never experienced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their sex was addicting. They’d fuck anywhere. In the halls, the bathroom of the club they’d chosen. Draco’s bedroom wall or the couch. They hadn’t touched a bed again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They carried on like that, unnoticed for months. In October they were having a nasty, drunken row in the streets. A flash of light went off and the next day they were featured on the front page of the Daily Prophet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face when she saw it was indescribable. Moved from shocked to angry to disappointed in seconds. Draco felt euphoric at watching the snotty look wiped off her face. He clipped the article with a snap of his fingers and stuck it in his bedside table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the first article of many. After that, she tried to tame her anger in public, but she was so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy </span>
  </em>
  <span>to bait and within the next two months they’d been featured five more times. Her image was cracking in the eyes of the public and he could see her crumbling without their approval. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t rationalize why she kept coming back to him. Figured it really was that hard for her to accept someone might not like her. Kept trying to please or impress him. It made Draco laugh. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>to watch the disappointment in her eyes when he took her down a peg. </span>
</p>
<p>Draco spent too much of his time wondering why she’d suddenly started to come around so often. How she’d so easily slipped into their group dynamics and no one seemed to mind it. </p>
<p>
  <span>Not even him. </span>
</p>
<p>She popped through the floo one Friday evening with a devious smile and a bag of green in her hands. </p>
<p>“Muggle drugs?” Potter asked. “Merlin Hermione, I’m a bloody law enforcer.”</p>
<p>
  <span>She patted his head fondly. “Only the best stuff here. Grown in the greenhouses at Durmstrang.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny’s jaw popped open. Of all their friends, Ginny was the one most familiar with drugs— magic or muggle. Athletes, apparently, were </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>high. </span>
</p>
<p>“You’re growing marijuana on campus?” Ginny was disbelieving. </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just the seventh years. Do I need to spend tonight going over the merits of marijuana for stress? No? We can just do a field study instead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled out a thin looking paper and began to crumble little green pieces into it, before rolling it tightly, licking the edges and handing it to Potter. She rolled three more before lighting one with a snap of her fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’d like to go first?”</span>
</p>
<p>The room was silent. Eventually, Theo raised his hand. </p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny placed a warning hand on Theo’s thigh. “You should proceed with caution. We </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>remember the hangover of last June, don’t we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The group chorused a groan. Theo paled, his outreached hand drooping slightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No no,” Granger said. “Weed shouldn’t do that. It’s adverse effects normally don’t include vomiting or nausea. We’ll go slow, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was rough to inhale, smelled like rotting animals and tasted even worse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the effects were much quicker than alcohol, and much different. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny had become giggly. Singing in silly accents with her CD’s. Laughing so hard she fell over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Weasley and Theo were instantly hungry, and Granger had to scurry off for a half hour to go and pick up pizza. </span>
</p>
<p>The effects it had on Draco were pleasant, but a bit frightening, if he were in the right mind to be scared. His Occlumency walls were lowering without his permission. Anytime he was distracted, they slid down and it wasn’t until he was completely free of them that he’d remind himself to yank them back up. </p>
<p>Draco felt giddy. Alcohol was fun because it lowered inhibitions, but it didn’t force his mask to slip. Just allowed his public persona to be a bit more free. Relax a little. </p>
<p>
  <span>This time, there was no acting. There was Draco, Silver boy and then there was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>Draco. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he was laughing gutterally at Ginny’s antics and making his own jokes and people </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughed </span>
  </em>
  <span>at them. He wasn’t being mean or insulting and there were no cronies around. Just his friends and they thought he was funny—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger’s hand landed on his forearm as she bent over with giggles and something rippled up his spine— calling to him, pleasant in its feeling but it was so foreign and it put him on his defenses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to pull away but no, the hand on her arm pulled her in until she was sitting sideways in his lap. She said something, a reply to him perhaps but he wasn’t listening. Could only watch as her eyes lit up, in a way that wasn’t out of place on her but this time it was directed at </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he felt all mighty. Powerful because he had brought bliss upon Hermione Granger and—</span>
</p>
<p>And then he was kissing her, a different type than their fevered, messy snogs in his dimly lit bedroom or the orange hue of the club bathroom. </p>
<p>
  <span>His friends were wolf whistling or booing, but he did not care. Could not pull his lips away from the witch in his lap, who was kissing him slowly. With purpose he did not understand. With heat he had never experienced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His walls were down and he knew it. He could bring them up, if he pulled away. He could fix it all. Slide her off his lap. Excuse himself and head to bed alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he was intoxicated— not because of the drugs, but there was a heat spreading through him and he might have thought it familiar, might have been able to relate it to his previous couplings with Granger except it was all consuming, taking every misconception he’d ever had about fucking or feeling and lighting them on fire, burning them to ashes until everything he knew was gone and he was sitting in this chair fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>shaking </span>
  </em>
  <span>with need and he could not </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>He carried her to his bedroom and laid her down on the bed. Crawled on top of her and kissed her slowly. </p>
<p>
  <span>They’d never done it like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands curled into his hair and she let out a breathy noise that was so much different— so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>better </span>
  </em>
  <span>than the loud, theatrical moans from before. </span>
</p>
<p>She moved against him slowly, almost sleepily. He was falling apart in front of her and she was not judging, just took the pieces and put them back with her own flare and he could not stop, not when it felt so good to be seen. </p>
<p>She pushed his pants off and unbuttoned his shirt before throwing her own dress over her head. He racked his brain to try and think if they’d ever both been fully naked at the same time but the answer was no, of course, because they’d never even spent this long together. </p>
<p>
  <span>The sex was good. It was incredible. But it was quick and messy and almost violent in its nature, the way they used each other to explore things they couldn’t say out loud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He entered her slowly, waiting for the rush to take over and the urge to plow her into the headboard, but it never hit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He draped himself over her sensually, rolling his hips to the steady pace of the kisses she’d set. A snog that was more tongue than teeth, that curled his toes and fogged his brain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulled away to whimper and whisper his name— his </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>name and Draco could not help it, could not </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He came, and even that seemed different. The way his hips stuttered in a different rhythm and he thought about how much better it was, how satisfying this felt and now he was ruined, nothing else would ever compare. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finished her with his fingers and she moaned softly into his neck, one hand in his hair, tangling at the nape and the other at his side, pulling him closer as if she couldn’t get enough. As if she wanted more of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They laid after, limbs entangled and sheet twisted around them. A sleepy sort of hypnotism seemed to take over and he wanted nothing more than to bury his head into her hair and fall asleep. Her breathing was even and it seemed she’d already made her decision. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Draco never had good timing. His brain came back for the first time in hours and the inevitable panic set in because this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione Granger </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he hated her. </span>
</p>
<p>They fucked their frustrations out on each other and he could handle that. Was okay with it because they spent the rest of their time together yelling and arguing and that was what they were meant to do. </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t fuck her, just now. Gods, he refused to even put a name to what just happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His stomach was roiling as he scrambled quietly out of her grasp and he thought he might vomit, thought the drugs had fucked him up despite what Granger had said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He went up to the roof, stole to the spot where Theo hid his cigarettes and smoked the entire pack as he watched the sunrise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he came back down, Granger was making breakfast alongside Weasley. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask him where he went. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the look in her eyes. It was different. Lighter. Trusting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he did not know how he could feel both elation </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>fury at that. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>WAIT BEFORE YOU GO AND SCREAM IN THE COMMENTS<br/>some points need to be made cause all y’all are draco simps <br/>FIRST OFF: <br/>SAME. I hold this particular version of Draco VERY close to my heart. A lot of his unhealthy tendencies are actually based on my (very young, very traumatized, very HEALED) husband<br/>SECOND:<br/>this fic is tagged toxic draco but that doesn’t mean hermione isn’t also toxic. This story is told from a Draco pov and, if you haven’t realized yet, he’s a VERY unreliable narrator. Focuses more on what he says and worries about twisting Hermione’s words more than he does actually hearing what she’s saying. <br/>It takes two to tango the toxic relationship. but the point stands that draco is antagonistic towards her. <br/>Tomorrow the toxic tango gets shifted into FULL GEAR so get ready</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Crumble</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Almost done!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There were more moments like that over the following weeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where Draco would find himself getting lost in what she said— </span>
  <em>
    <span>believing </span>
  </em>
  <span>in it, even. Having faith in the absurd plans she was making. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanting to become a part of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>These feelings were almost always immediately followed by a surge of anger. Made him lash out at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fought more than ever in those weeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt her. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell she was trying to be civil and he just. Wasn’t having it. Wasn’t sure what would be left if they discarded their fighting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t understand. Could not put the pieces together of how they’d be sitting there, engaging in civil— almost passionate— conversation one moment and then, at the drop of a hat, his eyes would flash and he’d turn his opinion. Needle through the less thought out arguments. Pick apart the most minor of things until she was red and fuming— screaming at him and looking hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she wanted his approval </span>
  <em>
    <span>so bad. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He must have been the only person in the entire wizarding world that didn’t like her or appreciate everything she was doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could see her bending over backwards to understand what it was. What she could do differently. How to fix it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he didn’t want to give that to her, mostly. Loved to see that giant brain of hers working. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Focusing </span>
  </em>
  <span>on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> days where he wanted to give it to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pat on the back. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>good job, Granger. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>Just to see what she’d do. To see if he could make her eyes light up like Potter or Weasley. </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, the thoughts always looped back to anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they continued to fight and fuck. Never teetering too close towards one side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was December and they were at Granger’s home to celebrate the holidays before they’d all be expected to make an appearance at the Burrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d given them free reign of her house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the exception of one room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This didn’t sit well with Draco. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waited until everyone else was properly boozed up before going to check it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a room filled with glass habitats. He only had a minute or two to observe before Granger entered, startling him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This was Viktor’s room, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco snapped around to see Granger leaning against the open door frame with a glass in her hand. A normal person wouldn’t be able to tell, but she was much drunker than she’d let herself ever be around their group. There was a flush in her cheeks and a fire in her eyes that reminded him of the girl he’d seen rushing through the Great Hall after the Battle of Hogwarts, handing out blankets and muggle medicine supplies because the majority of people that were able to help were too drained to cast efficient healing spells. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reptiles?”</span>
</p><p>Granger nodded, walking into the room slowly, looking around as if she hadn’t been in it for a while.</p><p>“During an interview once he’d mentioned how much he respected the dragon he went up against in the Triwizard tournament. He told the press that he still had his miniature version sitting on his nightstand. He then proceeded to make an offhand comment about how he’d like to house reptiles one day.”</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked around to see about a dozen glass habitats with bright lights placed over the tops. He moved closer to one and spied a bearded dragon basking in the heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His fans took that and ran with it, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of them.” She reached her hand into a bin and pulled out a handful of live crickets, opened one of the sliding doors into the habitat, and threw them in. “We suspect it was only the most eccentric of the lot, but once they reached the doorstep Viktor couldn’t turn them back. I guess he really did have a sort of fascination with them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco watched as the reptile sprang into action, changing from a lazing lump to a predator in seconds. He ran after the crickets, chomping into them vulgarly. Draco wrinkled his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione giggled. “I get it. They can be off putting at first. I honestly don’t feed them myself most days. I have a house elf trained in their proper care and I pay her extra for her generous service.” She swallowed, lifting her eyes from the habitat to meet with Draco’s. “I don’t like coming in here. This was always Viktor’s sanctuary and every corner is soaked with the memory of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco dropped his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t have pushed her, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. If Granger was setting boundaries there was almost a guarantee he’d want to test them and see if there were any consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There always were, even if he didn’t always realize so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t talk about Viktor much. I know that people think it’s because I’ve moved on from him, but that’s not it at all.” She set her drink down and approached Draco. “Why do you think I never talk about my dead husband, Draco?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco took a step back. He wet his lips. He opened his mouth, then closed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I— I haven’t thought about it,” he admitted honestly. Hermione Granger in the present had taken up enough room in his head as it was. He didn’t need to think about her past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People who didn’t know him don’t deserve to know how amazing he was,” she said. “In the beginning, when the grief was so heavy I couldn’t get out of bed, my therapist would floo over and ask me to tell her about memories. So I’d regale tales of times Viktor had me in stitches, laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. I’d watch her nod politely at the proper intervals, but she didn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>get </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. She wasn’t laughing along and suddenly those memories weren’t what they had been. I look back at them and I don’t think about how happy I’d been at the time, I just see my therapist and her neat, practiced smile and think about how she didn’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>“That’s fair.”</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes snapped back up to meet his. He watched her temples as her jaw clenched and unclenched several times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think this is fair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You not wanting to talk about your dead husband is your business, not mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why’d you come in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes. “You said not to come in here. You didn’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t come in here because I’m unable to deal with the ghost of my late husband’s memory.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione scoffed, shaking her head. “You’ve no idea what this is actually about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well either enlighten me or move the fuck over so I can leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>room!” she yelled. When Draco looked up, there were tears in her eyes. It was the first time he realized she was capable of it. She’d cried before, of course. But none felt as genuine as this. He’d seen her vacant stare and even heard her fake laugh. When he was drunk he let himself believe it was real, because he couldn’t bear the thought of an insincere Hermione Granger. It had worked, for a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is his room and you never knew him. This was the one space that was all his and now when I come in here, I’ll remember the time Draco Malfoy came in and tore it apart with his presence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry you’re unable to separate past from present. Just because you tell stories about him or have other people in your house, doesn’t mean it takes away from his memory or his character.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hate me,” she said and the sudden change in conversation had Draco’s thoroughly drunk brain struggling to keep up. It felt as if his thoughts were moving through honey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m not sure why this is a revelation for you. I’ve tried to make it quite obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve no reason to hate me.”</span>
</p><p>“You’re annoying, what else do I need?”</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “If you really thought I was annoying you’d just walk away from me like you do when Lavender's in the room. You engage because you enjoy being intellectually challenged.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you call arguing with me for two hours over the integrity of muggle cleaning products?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Granger pressed her lips together, as if repressing a smile. The idea was obscene because she was so obviously and painfully sad at that moment. Her eyes still glittered with tears, though she hadn’t let any of them fall. Her shoulders were slumped over in a way he recognized from his own posture while he was in his room, alone. The look of someone who’d been putting on a farce all day and was finally letting the weight of their true emotions come forth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not about me at all, not really.” She dropped her head, squeezing the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, and then opened them once more. She was a stone wall. All hint of the tidal wave of emotions she was hiding gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure why it had taken him until now to realize she was an Occlumens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe my hatred towards you is entirely about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hate me because of your own insecurities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stood up straight and lifted a hand to his chest. “And what do you know about </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>insecurities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re mad because I walk around being entirely and genuinely myself and people </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>me. Not just because I’m the Golden Girl or war hero, though I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself. They like me because of the type of person I am.” She folded her arms over her chest. “That’s something you’ve so desperately wanted. But you’re too afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>people to like you so bad. It’s always been that way, from the way you joined a prejudiced gang to gain your father's approval to the way you insincerely bullied people to build clout with the Slytherins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven years of bullying the Golden Trio and you say it was insincere? I devoted quite a bit of time to making sure you were right miserable.” He ignored the part about his father because he no longer knew how much she said was true. Five years ago, he would have slapped her and claimed it was a lie. Now, he wasn’t so sure.</span>
</p><p>“You try so hard to get people on your side and you hate to see how easy it is for me.” She pointed a finger at him. “Because you fear if you were ever to truly be yourself, you’d be immediately rejected.”</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not true,” he said through grit teeth. “You act like you have me pinned down. The only reason you’ve put so much time and effort into studying me is because you’re too scared to deal with your own feelings about your husband’s death.” Suddenly she was right in front of him and he knew he should stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trauma was a tricky business, this he knew first hand. But there was fire in her eyes burning brighter than he’d ever remembered and the look aimed at him was more intoxicating than any firewhiskey he’d ingested that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You visit Britain every weekend and break because you’re afraid what might happen if you were left alone in your house for more than a few moments.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to be mean and cruel because she wanted to hurt. She needed someone to blame and be angry with. And he wanted her to blame him. He wanted to be the second year kid that spewed insults with no regard for what they actually meant just </span>
  <em>
    <span>one more time </span>
  </em>
  <span>and feel the carelessness of hurting someone so deeply they couldn’t hide the look on their face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched as her Occlumency walls shattered. Anguish and anger and hatred washed over her in that sequence, and then backwards. He watched the emotions pass through her several times before she turned it all and aimed it at herself. </span>
</p><p>“You’ve got me down, don’t you? It’s so easy for you to speak as the comeback king. Auror living with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, traveling around England to capture all the remaining Death Eaters as if you weren’t one up until the very last moment. You think that means you’ve worked through anything?” She pointed harshly into his chest. He was almost drunk enough to stagger back under the weight of it. “We’re the same, me and you. Hating ourselves and doing everything we can to avoid dealing with it.”</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s breathing stuttered. Out of all the things Hermione Granger was full of— arrogance, doubt, facts no one cared about— he had no idea self hatred was one of them.</span>
</p><p>“And I do hate myself,” she whispered, eyes lifting to meet his. And he could see it, past the haze of alcohol clouding her eyes and judgement, he saw a girl grappling with something she wasn’t equipped to deal with. And she loathed herself for it, for her inability.</p><p>
  <span>“I hate myself so much that I’m going to let you fuck me in this room, this shrine I’ve made to my husband. I hate myself for everything I feel for you when Viktor isn’t allowed to feel anymore, when he died with the promise of coming home and showing me how to properly handle the snakes. I want to taint it with all the bad we have inside. I want to walk past this room and not be able to come in because I’m so fucking ashamed of what I let overcome me in here.”</span>
</p><p>She was breathing hard when she was done. Draco was holding his breath. He eyed the door, but dropped his gaze to meet with hers once more. The sincerity in them was grappling.</p><p>
  <span>“The worst part, I think, is that you’ll follow through with it.”</span>
</p><p>Draco opened his mouth to deny, but then her lips were on his, tasting of the sweet white wine he loathed so much and filling him with a heat equivalent to the lamps over the habitats. When she pulled back, he had to restrain himself from following.</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so full of self destruction that you’ll do this, even though you know it’s wrong. Because you don’t hate me, and I don’t hate you. And that scares the living shit out of you, that you might want something more than to just have angry sex against your bedroom wall and the ability to blame it on the alcohol the next day. You want to ruin this, taint it so we might actually have a chance of moving in opposite directions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wanted to correct her. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t want to hate her, just for her to hate him because she so obviously needed someone to be angry with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, it would have been a lie. </span>
</p><p>He did want to hate her. He wanted her and her goodness to have the life drained out of them until she was just as empty as he was. He wanted her to look at the world and see nothing except missed opportunities and wrong turns, the same way he'd felt since he was held down and forced to take the mark.</p><p>He was supposed to make it big in the world. He was a Malfoy. In the blink of an eye it was all snatched away from him and Hermione bloody Granger was on the rise and taking everything he’d ever wanted. </p><p>
  <span>She paused, head tilted to the side. Questioning. Waiting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a choice. She wasn’t forcing him because she wanted it to be his decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could say no and walk out of the room. They could sit down and talk tomorrow about what had happened and why. They could move forward together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except where was there to go? He’d never be her equal, if anything he could be the man she fucked until she found an appropriate replacement husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t have control over that. But he had control now.</span>
</p><p>He bent his head to capture her lips and pulled her into his chest. She responded immediately, moving her mouth against his and wrapping her fingers in his hair. </p><p>
  <span>It should have been wrong, but it wasn’t. From the very first kiss they’d had a physical connection. He slid one of his hands from where they were entangled in her curls and brushed against the hem of her dress. She moaned in response, nipping at his lower lip with enough force to bruise. He pulled back, smirking at her protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to watch it all,” he said as his hand traced up her thigh, moving towards her center.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her breath stuttered when his fingers ghosted against her clit. He repeated the motion until her eyelids fluttered shut. Her hands ran up his spine, reaching to wrap around his shoulder blades. </span>
</p><p>The feeling of another person pressed against him was almost as intoxicating as the little noises she made as he pulled her knickers down. He could feel her body heat searing into his skin even through their clothes. He could take them off, but he wouldn’t. Some things, there was no going back from.</p><p>
  <span>When he slid a finger in, she threw her head against his chest and a hand came up over his heart. It didn’t tighten or press, but just rested there lightly. He wanted to take it and hold it, kiss the fingers softly until she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that wasn’t what this was. That wasn’t who he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he thrust another finger in and ground against her hip when the hardness in his own pants became too much to handle. She kissed down his neck and bit lightly over his collarbone, right above where her palm still rested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fingered her clit, in slow circles and quick lines until she was shamelessly humping his hand. He knew he wouldn’t last and he wanted her to come, hate fuck or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she began pulsing around his fingers, she threw her head back in a silent moan. She didn’t make any sounds as she pressed down harder against his hand. For a moment, she almost looked at peace. Draco hadn’t realized how much she was truly carrying until that moment. </span>
</p><p>She undid his pants with quick and sufficient movements. In another environment, he would have teased her about it. But nothing about this was funny. The atmosphere felt even too heavy for words.</p><p>
  <span>It should have been rough and dirty, but it wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They switched around so she was against the wall and he lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She ran her fingers through his hair gently, moving down to caress his cheek as he thrust slowly in and out of her. Her other hand never left its place over his heart. She careened him on with what little movement she could provide, but ultimately let him take over. He buried his head in her neck and grunted in between the light kisses he peppered her throat with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he came, he reclaimed her lips one more time. His tongue slipped into her mouth and he tried to communicate with her. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry </span>
  </em>
  <span>popped into his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he wasn’t sorry, so he ravaged her instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she untangled her legs and dropped to the ground, she looked up at him. This time, there was a smile on her lips. It looked real and sad all at once. She walked to the door silently. When her hand landed on the knob, she waited a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In another universe, you said no to me tonight.” She didn’t turn around and her voice was soft. Draco felt as if she was screaming at him in a different language. “I just wonder what that would have meant, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she was out of the door and Draco was alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning when Draco woke and opened the door to his room, he caught Granger, standing and staring at the door into the reptile room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t see him, didn’t sense his presence. Just continued to stare until Draco noticed there were tears falling silently down her cheeks. In just a few moments they were dripping from her chin and creating dark wet spots on her pink jumper. He watched for a few moments, enraptured as he invaded on what was an intimately private moment. He couldn’t feel bothered to care, she’d already taken everything from him. He needed to see this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, right as Draco went to turn away, she let out an agonized whimper. It traveled down to Draco’s core. He could feel it moving through his body, wrapping itself around Draco’s self loathing with a pretty little bow. Perhaps he could give it to Granger for Christmas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound echoed in his head, growing louder and louder until he squeezed his eyes shut and threw his hands over his ears. But it continued on until he forced his Occlumency walls into place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he opened his eyes, Granger was wiping the tears from her eyes. She glanced at the door once more. Reached a hand towards the knob and then froze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment she dropped it and walked in the opposite direction, arms wrapped around her middle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, she didn’t exactly stay away, but she was distant. Wouldn’t be in a room alone with him. Didn’t seek him out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to bait her into arguments once or twice, but it wasn’t the same. She’d acquiesce or excuse herself and she didn’t— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It left him feeling empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t seek her out. Threw away the idea of an apology nearly as soon as it entered his mind. Even if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>sorry, she’d never believe it, and he didn’t have it in him to convince her. Would not beg for acceptance he wasn’t sure he even cared about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a random, Thursday in March, she burst through his floo, eyes wide and full of unshed tears. He was sitting on the bed, reading a book and upon her arrival sat up and cocked his head at her. </span>
</p><p>She stood awkwardly, twisting her hands and trying to find the courage to speak. </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Viktor’s—“ she paused, letting out a shuddering gasp. “It’s been a year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she was sobbing and he was rushing across the room, taking her into his arms and soothing in all the ways he knew possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d calmed eventually as Draco ran fingers through her hair. His shirt was soaked through with her tears but she did not seem to notice. Laid with her head pressed into his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was different with Viktor,” she said, voice slightly muffled. She did not turn to look at him. “It was easy and warm. Like a sunset on the beach with an ice cream cone in my hand. We didn’t fight much. I know when we first announced our engagements there was talk about him being too simple for me. And I know what they meant. That he was stupid. But he wasn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco did not move besides his fingers still combing through her curls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Viktor was simple. It wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t talk much, to anyone except me, and even then he was still inclined to bouts of silence. But the things he </span>
  <em>
    <span>said— </span>
  </em>
  <span>it made them all the more meaningful because it meant he’d thought about it, that he’d decided to engage and it was— and when he </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughed—</span>
  </em>
  <span>“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice cut off and another round of sobs ripped through her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat up onto her elbow and turned to look at him, strangely at peace despite the tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I’d find that again. I never expected to stay single for the rest of my life. But I assumed I’d find another simple, sunset man and we’d settle into an existence that was similar but no less wonderful than what I had with Viktor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes narrowed and glared at him. “But then there was you and it meant nothing at first except that you made the blood in my veins thrum for the first time since Viktor passed and part of that was the arguing. I’d never had that with Viktor. We didn’t scream at each other. When we had disagreements, we sat down and talked them through like adults. It was— it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>healthy </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I thought I’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>get that again—”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She cut off and another cry broke through and her spine hunched over as she worked through them. Draco wanted so bad to touch her but the fear of her flinching away held him back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We fought and it led to sex. Great sex. And I thought, hey, it’s not the best healing mechanism but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>getting myself back out there, so it’s okay. I didn’t like you anyways and the way you </span>
  <em>
    <span>belittled </span>
  </em>
  <span>me and everything I cared about was so infuriating. I wanted your approval </span>
  <em>
    <span>so desperately </span>
  </em>
  <span>because you hated me for no reason. I could not have that, so I settled for something else. Something tangible. There was nothing better than watching you come inside me, tearing apart that fucking sneer for two seconds. Knowing that bitchy all good </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione Granger </span>
  </em>
  <span>was able to do that was— gods it was intoxicating.” </span>
</p><p>She pushed up off the bed entirely then, launching to stand and pace. </p><p>
  <span>“But then I actually started listening to what you had to say and— and you made good points, when you weren’t so painfully biased against me. You actually had a lot of meaningful criticism and I started </span>
  <em>
    <span>listening </span>
  </em>
  <span>to you. Soon enough I’d do something and I’d want to tell you. I’d think about you at work and when I picked out my clothes I’d consider which outfit you might prefer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always liked your outfits,” he cut in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignored him. “And I started to like you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Genuinely. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But we still fought because you poked holes into anything and everything I did. The sex was still good, but nothing else was. We screamed and argued and it was obvious we were not good for each other. Soon enough </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Prophet </span>
  </em>
  <span>caught wind of our toxic relationship and we were plastered on the front and </span>
  <em>
    <span>gods, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that felt so wrong because </span>
  <em>
    <span>we are not happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>and people are eating it up. It’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked </span>
  </em>
  <span>because Viktor and I had two whole pictures on the front page our entire relationship and it’s because— because we were </span>
  <em>
    <span>content </span>
  </em>
  <span>and there was no juicy gossip there, just two people, finding peace after a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bloody war.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn't fun to see Hermione like this, no matter what she said. Not anymore. He’d set out to show her what the world was like. Surely this wasn’t what he wanted?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how messed up is that, how people root for the volatile, unstable relationship because it’s exciting? How Viktor and I were written off for being healthy and— and you see it </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the time, </span>
  </em>
  <span>in books and movies. The woman will be in an unstable but </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot </span>
  </em>
  <span>relationship and they’ll break up and she’ll heal. Move on and find someone much more suited towards her but the other man will come back for one reason or another and he’ll— he’ll get her. How fucked up is that? Because they’re exciting and the nice man is considered </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Life with Viktor was anything but boring. I hate that I have to constantly defend myself. Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>to </span>
  </em>
  <span>myself. Remind my own mind that I was happy. This isn’t happiness. It feels bad to be with you, a lot of the time.”</span>
</p><p>Draco’s throat had gone dry but she did not wait for a response. Had not given him a chance to get a word in edgewise the entire time. </p><p>
  <span>“How fucked up is it that they’re not wrong though?” She sounded truly desperate this time. Her eyes were wide and searching his frantically. “That Viktor completed me, but you make my blood </span>
  <em>
    <span>sing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You challenge me and even though it never bothered me that Viktor didn’t, I cannot help now that I am always craving that differing opinion. Even when it burns and I realize I’m not enough to make you happy. I cannot </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I think about you constantly, replay our arguments in my head and wonder where I went wrong or what I could do differently and I want more as much as I want none of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry—” he began. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she turned toward him, finger pointing accusingly. “You are not sorry and don’t patronize me with silly words that mean nothing. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>the downfall. I saw all the papers tucked away in your drawer. You fucking— the fall of the Golden Girl is practically a wet dream for you and the fact that you got to be the one to direct it— gods I can’t imagine how satisfied you must be feeling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The churning in his stomach picked up and he thought he might be sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d marveled at every bit of it so far. Wanted so bad for her to be taken down a peg and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>got to do it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thought he was doing her a favor by giving her a taste of the real world. </span>
</p><p>He did not know. Did not think that victory would be her screaming at him with tears in her eyes. Had not realized how badly it would burn. </p><p>
  <span>Her fingers pulled at her hair. “And I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so stupid. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I thought you’d started caring. There were moments where I swear I saw it in your eyes. I had convinced myself that we could settle into something more amicable. That we could have more civil but still heated debates over breakfast as we got ready for work. That we’d learned to curb our anger but never our passion. Could debate through sex and fucking— have our own weird pillow talk. I was so drunk that night in the reptile room and I wanted to test you because I had to know. I thought—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took a deep shuddering breath. At his sides, Draco’s hands shook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d say </span>
  <em>
    <span>no. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I really did. But I had miscalculated. Seen the world through the wrong lense. And that was a lesson you had taught me, so I shouldn’t have been surprised, right?” She shook her head. “I knew it was time to move on. I was doing an okay job, I suppose. Keeping busy and hanging out with friends from work. Keeping my distance until the pain ached a bit less. But then this date— this stupid fucking anniversary came up and as soon as things fell apart I came running to you and— and this is just more fuel for your Hermione Granger is in shambles fire but I did not care. I had no one else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t feel that way. And the room— it’d been a mistake. He should tell her so. </span>
</p><p>But… then what? She’d just spent the past ten minutes showing all the ways he’d fucked up her life. All the ways in which he’d enjoyed it. </p><p>
  <span>And she was right. But if he tried to fix it now, tried to convince her to stay, what happened next? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not the type of man to temper his moods. To wake up next to a loving wife and dote on her. To head to the beach and watch the sunset over ice cream. He was— he </span>
  <em>
    <span>destroyed </span>
  </em>
  <span>things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to change. Not for himself. Certainly not for anyone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should go.” The words tasted metallic. Felt like knives in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The betrayal in her eyes was even worse, but he forced himself to watch. Wanted to remember what it looked like to lose Hermione Granger’s trust and love. </span>
</p><p>Never wanted to forget how gutted he was to get rid of something he didn’t know he wanted. </p><p>
  <span>But it was too late. She was already grabbing her things and heading towards the floo. He’d already done enough damage. She deserved more than he could give. Because besides bitterness and gold, he had nothing to offer. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The reptile room scene was the scene that started this entire fic. I think I wrote that last April? And it’s undergone very few edits<br/>EDIT: My first posting fucked up. This has ALL the parts. Apologies!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Recovering Malfoy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please please mind the tags here folks</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He avoided any and all publicity about her. Never found it in him to dispose of their </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daily Prophet </span>
  </em>
  <span>clippings. Couldn’t open the drawer either. Just let them sit there, weighing him down in a way he knew was a refusal to move forward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A year after their break up she was pictured in </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Prophet </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Dean Thomas. He fed her a strawberry across a small, intimate table while laughing. She looked happy. It was featured on page four, the photo no bigger than a square of parchment. He stared at it for five minutes. </span>
</p>
<p>He continued to try and replicate what they had, but no girl ever met the high bar she’d set. Either their arguments were weak, or their intelligence not high enough, or they grew tired of his constant need to fight. </p>
<p>
  <span>Most girls thought too highly of themselves to stay with him. He’d gained a reputation since Hermione. It didn’t stop them from continuing to come to him. He wasn’t sure if they were trying to change him or if they wanted to see for themselves but either way— it never ended well. They left broken and more used than before and he always felt empty. </span>
</p>
<p>His drinking rapidly increased directly after their break up, but it began in earnest—for over three months of straight inebriation— after the picture of her and Thomas. He took a leave of absence from work. </p>
<p>
  <span>He’d wake up and drink. Choose alcohol over food. Drink until he eventually passed out, letting himself land wherever his body lost control. Sometimes it was the couch. Sometimes it was with his head drooping into his toilet bowl. He’d woken up in the hallway outside of his bedroom more than once. </span>
</p>
<p>Potter always carried him to bed when he found him in an uncomfortable position. Turned him on his side in case he was sick in the night. Checked on him in the mornings before he left for work. </p>
<p>
  <span>Theo cried one night as he carried him up the stairs. Potter was on the other side of Draco and they each threw an arm over their shoulder. They must have thought Draco completely unconscious because they spoke freely. Things they would never say to him if he was conscious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is exactly what I feared after he got out of Azkaban. But he didn’t give in. He didn’t surrender.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We just need to be here for him,” Potter soothed. “Hermione’s like a shock to the soul. He wasn’t ready for all that. It was good for him, though. Shook him out of whatever false pretenses he’d been operating under. This is just a rough patch.”</span>
</p>
<p>Theo sniffled and a cracked sob escaped his throat. </p>
<p>
  <span>Draco felt well and truly ruined after that. </span>
</p>
<p>Ginny was the one that pushed him away from the alcohol. </p>
<p>“You don’t get to act like this.” She was screaming at him after he’d thrown a whiskey bottle at another feature of Granger and Dean. This one was a photo of them walking through Diagon Alley, holding hands. She’d laid his head on his chest, for only a moment. It was intimate to watch. He hated it. </p>
<p>Theo was behind her, picking up the pieces but Ginny’s magic ran wild with her fury. </p>
<p>
  <span>“You had her! You had Hermione and you nearly ruined her because you weren’t ready to grow up. You don’t get to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do this</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she stressed the last words desperately. “You don’t get to feel bad for yourself and hate her because she’s healing. She deserves it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her chest was heaving and Draco felt properly cowed. After a moment, she came and sat down next to him, voice more steady but anger still evident. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t see her after. You weren’t around to pick up the pieces. Harry and Theo begged me not to tell you so I didn’t. But I’m tired of this. You toyed with her for nine months, tore her apart because she was coping in a way you weren’t ready to. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>did that. You pushed her away, so you don’t get to do this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She enrolled him in a sobriety program not long after that. Somehow found a loophole that made it mandatory he attend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco refused to talk to her for six months because of it. </span>
</p>
<p>He didn’t feel he needed sobriety. The alcohol wasn’t the problem. He’d told his therapist as much, five weeks in. </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not,” his therapist agreed, and he tossed him a coin off the desk. Draco turned it over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>15 years sober, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The alcohol is an escape, and until you learn to handle your more volatile tendencies, you’ll keep turning back to it when things get tough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But…” Draco didn’t know what he was trying to say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it were merely as simple as being addicted, so many people wouldn’t relapse. But something drove us there. Kept us there. Made us rely on it like a crutch. That’s why we have therapy in rehab. To create healthier ways to cope.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He listened and it made sense. He just didn’t like what he was hearing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much as he might have thought it unnecessary, the rehab did help. As did the therapy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He learned about strategies he could use when he was feeling out of control. How he’d relied on his anger to get him through when he felt it slipping. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How not understanding that people heal differently could be </span>
  <em>
    <span>detrimental </span>
  </em>
  <span>to his health, and the health of the people around him. </span>
</p>
<p>A mind healer came through and showed him a scan of his fully Occluded brain versus a normal one of a man his age. Explained the damage he was doing to his psyche by walking around with his emotions completely shut away. </p>
<p>
  <span>Told him that he could not make these things disappear. That they would only stack on each other until eventually, an inevitable collapse would happen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s probably what stimulated the alcohol use,” the healer said. “You’re lucky someone cared about you enough to get you into a program. A few more months of that mixed with your mental health issues being shuttered away and…” he shrugged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>During month five, he brought out the news clippings from his drawer and showed his therapist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco talked about Hermione for the first time. How she was the real addiction, how he’d been clean of her for nearly two years and it had been more miserable than his time spent in Azkaban. How he’d ripped her apart because she made him feel things he didn’t understand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wallace did not interrupt him. Did not flinch or grimace as he spoke crassly about her. He did not judge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, Draco came out of that session feeling lighter than he had in years, unaware his therapist had not said a single word. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he reunited with Ginny after his graduation from rehab, he hugged her tight, burying his face into her shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>They both pretended to not hear the other’s sobs. </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco struggled with his sobriety more than he ever thought he would. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two weeks after his rehab stint ended, he woke from a nightmare of the war soaked in sweat. His hands would not stop shaking and he was two deep pulls straight from the bottle before he even realized what he was doing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran downstairs, glass gripped in his fist, approached where Theo, Potter and Ginny were snuggled on the couch— looking careless and happy and fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>free—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I think I messed up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the last memory he had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he woke next, he was in Potter’s room, laid out on his sheets with a bucket by his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny sat beside him, leaning against the bedpost with her eyes closed. Potter was asleep at the foot of the bed, curled in on himself. </span>
</p>
<p>Theo was pressed against the bedroom door as if his life might depend on it. </p>
<p>He rolled over from his stomach to his back and Ginny jerked up instantly, wand fisted in her hand and eyes wide. She looked… scared. Of him. </p>
<p>
  <span>She furrowed her eyebrows. “Draco? Is that you?”</span>
</p>
<p>His stomach plummeted. But he nodded and accepted the tight embrace. </p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been out for nearly four days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dreams or the alcohol— more likely a combination of them both— had triggered something within his already exhausted Occlumency walls that he was still using on a regular basis. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I had plans to stop, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d told the mind healer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His sponsor sat with him as his friends retold him what he’d done while he was out. Held his hand because it was going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking horrifying, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his sponsor had said, but he needed to know. So that he could move forward. Get better for himself, and for others. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it was—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Horrifying was not the word. </span>
</p>
<p>Better descriptions could be:</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jaw dropping</span>
  </em>
  <span>: the way Ginny described the feral look in his eyes. That fight or flight that had, inevitably, been </span>
  <em>
    <span>fight </span>
  </em>
  <span>for him and he’d gave them all his best shot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nauseating</span>
  </em>
  <span>: when Theo lifted up his shirt and showed him the bruises and claw marks across his midsection. As if Draco was an animal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Pitiable</span>
  </em>
  <span>: the way Potter himself choked up when speaking of the way Draco </span>
  <em>
    <span>begged </span>
  </em>
  <span>them to kill him, to release him from his own mind prison. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Disgusting</em>
  </b>
  <span>: because in the end they stuck with him. And he didn’t think he deserved that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--- </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After considering it all, Draco went to the mind healer for his friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to get better. Not really. Thought the effort was too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not worthy,” his sponsor had said in turn. “So you think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco shrugged. “I think… I think that I find a lot of comfort in the way I am right now. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>my self destructive tendencies. And yeah, maybe a lot of it is because I don’t think I deserve to heal or get better after all the shitty things I’ve done, but—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused. Unsure if he should say it out loud. Not wanting to sound codependent or crazy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But?” he prompted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I look at my— at my friends. They stayed with me. Through all that horrifying shit, they helped me along. Even when I made them pay a price for it. And they want me to get better. Think I deserve it. There’s this part of me…” he weighed the consequences of his words. “I want to get better for them. Because I’m harming them the way I am. Making them worry. Putting them in danger when my mind falls apart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco took a deep breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I was alone, none of that would matter. I’d fall apart in peace. Maybe even kill myself eventually, if I’m being honest. But they won’t leave me alone. Not now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re considering treatment? To become less of a burden to them?”</span>
</p>
<p>“Yes. I know how bad that is. That I need to want it for yourself.”</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” he agreed. “However, you’ve already made goals when it comes to recovery. Perhaps the push of your friends' needs is not a bad way to get started on this next hurdle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco tilted his head sideways. Tried not to get his hopes up. “No?”</span>
</p>
<p>He put a consoling hand on Draco’s shoulder. </p>
<p>
  <span>“We spend </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much </span>
  </em>
  <span>of our lives doing things for other people. Laughing with them, caring for them. Loving them. While of course it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>the ultimate goal to want things for yourself, it’s okay to do things for other people. To live for them on the days where there seems to be nothing else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco pondered on that. It felt like an entire new light had been shed. “Huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>“At least in that way, you still want it. Even if the reason is convoluted. Who knows, maybe it’ll work. Maybe you’ll start seeing yourself the way they do. If not, well you’re right back where you started anyway.”</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first six months of mind healing were by far the worst of Draco’s life thus far. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every morning he took a potion that prevented his Occlumency. He had no idea how reliant he was upon it. Didn’t think it would be a big deal to get rid of. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The nightmares came in ten fold. He feared sleep more than he did anything else. Fought it until he was nodding off at the dinner table and someone— normally one of the Weasley’s— forced him to bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He began drinking again. Sneakily at first, but after a month he was caught by Theo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco tried to bargain with him. Told him that he could not possibly navigate mind healing </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>the beginnings of sobriety at the same time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had almost worked. Theo had softened, was even about to handle the bottle back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then Ginny had walked in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every trace of alcohol was removed from their house by the next day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His lapses in sanity increased after this. He’d had to take another leave of absence from work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They happened randomly throughout the day, triggered by an amalgamation of things that Draco could not pinpoint.</span>
</p>
<p>One of his roommates was with him at all times. Babysitting. </p>
<p>Weasley began bringing his paperwork from the joke shop home. </p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny begged off on bonus practices she’d previously been so adamant about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter switched his schedule to night shifts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo came home on lunch breaks. </span>
</p>
<p>He felt suffocated. </p>
<p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>a part of the process, </span>
  </em>
  <span>supposedly. Things had to get worse before they could get better, he’d been told. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They got worse. So bad that when he came out of it— when he was back in his right mind it was all he could do to curl up on Ginny’s lap and beg her for something. Anything to stop the memories. The pain he remembered, the pain </span>
  <em>
    <span>he caused.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>He’d never wanted a drink so badly in his life than during those six months. </p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny was the only one that could be around him when came back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo would break down into sobs and both of them would become inconsolable. Draco triggered Potter’s PTSD. They fist fought for the first time in years two months into mind healing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny stood solid like a rock. Never wavering. Never giving in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Always there. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Years later, she would confide in him that she’d learned Occlumency from Hermione for these sessions. Had spent all hours that she was not at practice or with him with Hermione, learning to shutter and pack away so she could be strong for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Draco did not know how he’d become worthy of such an act. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The memories of Hermione came back around three months in. He’d never really Occluded them away, not like he had everything else, but for some reason, the return of her presence in his brain was the hardest of all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps it was because she was good. Had seen it in him even when he tried his hardest to hide it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it was because she had stayed with him despite all the shit he dragged her through. Or maybe it was because she left when he so clearly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>desperately </span>
  </em>
  <span>needed her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could not understand how he could both hate and love her at the same time. How he thought her weak for how long she stayed, but loathed that she didn’t see him worth sticking with. That at some point, she could no longer see enough of his good to love him through his bad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he brought this up to his therapist, Wallace had merely nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s odd, I think, how we as humans both encompass so little, and yet so much. How we cannot get emotions down to an </span>
  <em>
    <span>exact </span>
  </em>
  <span>science, but we spend so much of our lives experiencing them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco furrowed his brow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can feel extremes at the same time. Haven’t you described your times in the years prior as some of the best of your life?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yet you also expressed immense pain and bitterness. Feelings of despair. Suicidal thoughts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes…”</span>
</p>
<p>“Then it goes without saying that those things, at some point, existed simultaneously.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco bit at his lip. Hard enough to draw blood. “That I lived both my best and worst at the same time? I both loved and hated her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wallace shrugged. “In the past when you’ve mentioned Miss Granger, you talked about her merits and drive. How it made you want to do better and that made you angry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I was uncomfortable,” Draco supplied, feeling proud. “I couldn’t see myself putting good back into the world. Did not think there was any good to put back. Felt she was naive for thinking so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s also important to note, Draco, that we, as individuals, wear our darkness as cloaks of defense. You especially. How is it fair that you’re mad at her for going away, when that is exactly what you asked?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t that what people say? That real love is walking through the darkness together, or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wallace shook his head. “I believe we’ve already gone over toxic behavior and, more specifically, codependency.”</span>
</p>
<p>Draco thought on that. Wallace plowed on. </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sayings like that— they almost give us permission to act our worst to the people we love, don’t they? We find that if we push hard enough they might leave. And if they don’t, then that’s the new bar. I can go </span>
  <em>
    <span>that far </span>
  </em>
  <span>and they’ll stay. Put up with me. Eventually we’ll push again. See if they’ll tolerate anymore. At some point we’ve put all our demons on them and still, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>blame them </span>
  </em>
  <span>when they decide they can take no more. It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>their fault </span>
  </em>
  <span>they could not handle me. It takes the responsibility off of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the end, Draco’s jaw had dropped open. </span>
</p>
<p>“Lashing out at a loved one when frustrated after a bad day is not the same as what you and Miss Granger went through. Remember that. Do not place blame on her for deciding she would no longer carry the weight of your trauma.”</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t happen overnight, but things did get better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly. Painfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He played muggle card games with Theo and Potter while Ginny had away games, keeping his mind occupied otherwise his hands would begin to fidget and his mind would turn to either Granger or alcohol and neither of those were a viable option. </span>
</p>
<p>He’d needed to be talked off the ledge of contacting her several times. </p>
<p>
  <span>“At least for an apology,” he insisted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Potter stood firm. “If you still feel like this another year down the line then you can send the owl. But it’s not—“ he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “You’ve barely started sleeping through the night. Give yourself a break, yeah? Hermione’s okay. She’s doing fine. No lasting negative effects from your relationship.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was probably the first time Draco set his mental health as priority, ever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, they talked about Hermione. What she was doing, how she was doing it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was still working at Durmstrang, still helping out the Ministry of Magic on weekends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not every weekend, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco rolled his eyes. “Still a fucking bleeding heart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You see so much bad, you start looking for the good. That’s all it is. She has given them an end date, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco perked up. “Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potter laughed. “Yes. December of this year, actually. She said she was tired. Was ready to move on from the war.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the six month mark, there were more nights he slept through. Less nightmares. The purple bags under his eyes slowly disappeared. He went back to work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started laughing again. Genuinely. Wasn’t sure when he stopped, but as he and Ginny sang to the Goo Goo Dolls— sober, but still completely engrossed— he found himself bent over at the waist with tears leaking from his eyes. It felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>euphoric. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It made him wonder why he’d ever held onto his self destructive tendencies when this was on the other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granger was right. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>good in this world. </span>
</p>
<p>Some days he wished he could tell her. Wished he could go back and tell himself. </p>
<p>
  <span>But mostly, he was content. Ready to move forward and be better because he could not go back and change the decisions he’d made. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was on the shores of Italy when he saw her again. Over three years after their break up and almost a year sober. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d gone there to visit his mother and decided for an evening outing alone while she drank wine with her posh friends. It still made him uneasy to be around alcohol. It had gotten better, but he didn’t trust himself. </span>
</p>
<p>There was a spot right by the edge of the sand that sold gelato that changed flavored depending on one’s mood, and Draco decided to give it a shot. </p>
<p>
  <span>When he turned around, treat in hand, she’d been there. Staring at him through her rounded sunglasses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco froze. If he thought alcohol had been a hurdle, he was not ready. Could not face his past. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except— except he had strategies for calming down and establishing control. </span>
</p>
<p>He couldn’t control the variables of the universe, but he could control how he reacted to them. </p>
<p>
  <span>“Draco,” she said, stepping forward to meet him and placing her sunglasses on her head. She squinted against the setting sun. “Of all places, I can’t believe I’m seeing you in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Italy.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged. Cleared his throat before speaking. “Mom stays here often and I hadn’t visited in a while, so…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t seem to notice his nerves or awkwardness as she carried on. “My parents are here as well. They don’t remember me, of course, but sometimes it’s just nice to… well I’m sure you think it crazy.” She waved it off. Dismissed herself like she didn’t matter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was so unlike her, but he realized it. He wasn’t privy to this information anymore. Even if he was, the Draco she remembered would mock her for it. Call her a bleeding heart or tell her to cut the cord. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Draco shook his head. “I’m sure it’s nice to see them happy. No better way to do that than when they’re on vacation. I get it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione tilted her head to the side. Raked her eyes up and down his body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You— you look good. I’m glad to see you’re— that you’re better. Recovering.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His rehab had been intimately public knowledge. As had much of his downfall. Articles on articles of people regaling their time with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>toxic, dangerous </span>
  </em>
  <span>Draco Malfoy. Of his decline and then, his comeback. People were eating it </span>
  <em>
    <span>up.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>“Yes, well, mind healing will do wonders for PTSD, apparently.”</p>
<p>She nodded her agreement, and it seemed their conversation had come to a natural end. He grappled for something else to say. Unprepared to watch her leave. </p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw you in the papers with Fred Weasley a few months ago,” he blurted. “How’s that going? You looked happy. Simple love type of happy. Like you always wanted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed, and it was a tinkering sound that left his chest aching. It could have been three years prior, and he’d been just as conflicted about it back then. Unsure what the feeling she was drawing out was. Only knew it made him feel like he was suffocating under something he didn’t understand. Wasn’t worthy of. It had made him angry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, well he is a wonderful simple man, but not quite right for me.” She eyed him with a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No?” His heart rate sped up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it turns out the ice cream on the beach during sunset no longer does it for me. Once in a lifetime love and all that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. He lifted his gelato at her. “It’s too bad. That’s actually—“ he furrowed his brow. “That’s actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what I was about to do. Huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced down, a smile still pulling at her lips. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was trying something new.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head, taking a step backwards. “Just make sure you always stay true to yourself, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, wanting to ask her back. Aching for her presence. </span>
</p>
<p>He didn’t. He was not ready. Perhaps she wasn’t either. </p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Draco.”</span>
</p>
<p>She had turned all the way around when he called out to her. Decided he needed to know. </p>
<p>
  <span>She looked over her shoulder with her brows raised, stopping in her tracks. “Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it’s not sunsets and simple you want anymore, what is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>She laughed. “Passionate debates over breakfast. Intellectual arguments that leak into the bedroom.”</p>
<p>
  <span>His fingers were numb from the fast melting gelato. His head was spinning. “I hope you find it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stepped back again. “Perhaps I already have. Just waiting for the right timing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then she spun around and was disappearing into the throng of people.</span>
</p>
<p>Draco ate his gelato and watched the sunset with the sand between his toes. </p>
<p>
  <span>It was beautiful. He could see the appeal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He found though, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting to croissants and political debates as he read </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Daily Prophet </span>
  </em>
  <span>over his coffee</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hard eyes turned passionate as clothes were pulled off and the conversation continued until it devolved into moans. </span>
</p>
<p>A nice man, settling down with a beautiful woman. Two very broken people, fitting their jagged edges together. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That’s it guys! Thank you for reading. I’m on Twitter, Facebook and tumblr all as @hiccupfound<br/>You can come scream at me at any of those places. In the comments as well. <br/>Thank you for reading. I love this Draco so, so much. I hold him very dear to my heart and the response to him has been immaculate and I just can’t thank you enough for the analysis and theories</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Hermione pt I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I must confess, I wrote a good portion of this listening to All Too Well by Taylor Swift<br/>This is part one of Hermione’s POV. I hope you enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sometimes, the will to live is as simple as finding a means to cope.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A means to cope. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione had thought about that for a while. How to cope. What it meant to just simply get by. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d hated that sentence, at first. Hermione had never simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>scraped by. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d thrived and exceeded expectations at everything she’d put her effort into. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you?” her therapist asked. There was a knowing glint in her eye that pissed Hermione off, and the urge to hurl a hex had to be repressed even further when she wouldn’t elaborate any further. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In due time, Hermione. You’ll figure it all out when you’re ready.” She lifted her quill to her temple and tapped it lightly, eyes glued on Hermione’s clenched fists. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>excelled, she told herself over and over again. Day in and day out. Weeks passed before she began doubting herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except… well she’d never been able to handle a broom all that well, had she? Acting as if she’d never cared all that much about a broom had been easy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she did. Flying would have been fun. She’d stayed after lessons to get advice from Madam Hooch. Had begged for tips and tricks from Oliver Wood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing worked. So she pretended to not give a damn. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That realization set the first cracks of doubt in her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First year— remembering the devil's snare, the giant wizard's chess, the potion riddle— that entire night was the summation of </span>
  <em>
    <span>scraping by, </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And second year— don’t even get her started. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Third year, oh gods, by this point she was ready to completely unravel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her entire life had been spent just coping. Waiting for the next month, the next year. Things will be better once this test is over, once the war is over. After all the funerals are done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then— Viktor came along. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d always kept him in the back of her mind. Felt bad about how things had turned out in fourth year— yet another time where things she excelled at were minimal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Viktor was a ray of sunshine on the darkest of days. Steadfast. Consistent in a way nothing in her life had been since she was eleven. Gods, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>longed </span>
  </em>
  <span>for it so desperately back then. He filled every crack in her cement heart with love and patience and— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was whole, for the first time. Shooting after something that didn’t involve Harry or saving the world. Just inclusion. And people were looking to </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>for it. She was no longer someone’s sidekick. Not with Viktor. They were two separate people that came together to make something incredible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was impulsive to run off to Bulgaria. But she’d never had the option to abandon ship. Not unless she wanted extreme damage to her morals and conscience. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Viktor was there— steady and sure and so </span>
  <em>
    <span>understanding </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was almost unbelievable to witness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fleeing to Bulgaria was the best decision she’d made yet. She hated to imagine what her life would have been like if she’d stayed in London at eighteen. Never would have found the peace and purpose that she did, she knows that for sure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Twenty was young to get married. Even in the wizarding world. Not that she cared. Not that she paid much attention to anything back then besides the work being something Durmstrang and making her own dreams come true. Dreams that included Viktor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His death— she didn’t like to talk about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She thought about all the shitty people that survived the war. Rotting away in Azkaban or being pulled away with light sentences. Thought of all the horrible, awful people that should have died in his place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She enrolled herself in therapy the very next day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Viktor wouldn’t want her to be bitter. And more than anything, she wanted to live the life Viktor wanted for her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took her a few months to pluck up the courage to travel back to London to see her friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had kept busy. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>kept busy. More so now than ever. Downtime meant thinking time. And if she thought, she’d cry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t want any of that. And her friends had been supportive. She owed them this. Could demonstrate that the old Hermione was still in there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She never minded that Harry and Ron got close to Draco and Theo. She’d thought for a long time that Draco was misunderstood. Way back in sixth year, when he’d worried himself sick over a task he knew he’d never be able to complete. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d seen him. Recognized the tension in his shoulders and the ache that only forced adulthood could bring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo always came on a bit strong for her taste, but he was mostly harmless. Not malicious in his intent, even when he was asking about her dead husband. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco— he was different. Just because Hermione understood him, or liked the way he brought Harry out of dark places after the war, didn’t mean she got along with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The debates were fun sometimes. But Draco was shrouded in a self loathing that felt all too familiar— one that she could feel surrounding her, if she sat still for too long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was different that first time after Viktor, though. Sharp eyes glued to her every move. Ears missing nothing. Tongue lashing out insults that hurt. </span>
</p>
<p>Why did they hurt?</p>
<p>
  <span>Years down the line, when she saw an article published about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Downfall of Draco Malfoy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she’d wonder if that initial curiousity at his words had been bad for both of them. If she hadn’t wanted to know, wanted to figure him out as much as he wanted to destroy her, then maybe neither of them would have had to suffer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blamed herself for his alcohol use. A lot. More than she should, according to her therapist. According to Ginny. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the beginning, things with Malfoy had been— fun wasn’t the word but something like it. Exhilarating. Like the thrill of the uphill hike on a rollercoaster. Right before your stomach dropped out from beneath you and the anticipation was overwhelming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione wasn’t sure where things soured, exactly. They had been steadily getting better. They didn’t yell as much, though that hardly meant much. It was still much worse than any healthy relationship should ever be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were actually a lot of times that they laughed. At Theo’s antics, or Ginny’s silly locker room stories. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They spent a lot of time on the roof. Watching the sunrise after sleepless nights. Heads resting on each other’s shoulders, slipping in soft kisses and genuine smiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d fallen in love with him, and for a minute she wasn’t mad. She felt safe. Even when he was blue in the face with the effort of proving her wrong. Of making her feel bad. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>ended up feeling bad, but somehow this was no longer a turn off. Seemed to be the thing that kept pulling her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mad sex in bathroom clubs turned into sensual fucks under the dark sky with the press of cement against her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not a bed. Never a bed. </span>
</p>
<p>She understood. She didn’t push. Not much. </p>
<p>
  <span>She knew Malfoy never saw it the same way she did. That where she saw the good, he remembered the arguing and the banter and he longed for it. The less they did it, the more he reached for nasty words and hurtful actions. She didn’t know, until years later, when they were talking and she was sobbing, that he didn’t think of those events as significant. He hardly remembered them at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My therapist said I pushed all the good things away. The— the mind healing fucked with my memories, and they were fucked from the Occlumency even before that. A side effect, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hurt, knowing that she’d been so delusional back then. All the rotten, nasty things she’d survived, and she still hadn’t seen through Malfoy. Still let herself believe she could change others. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The war had done nothing for her. She’d learned </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a while, she’d actually thought—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t matter. Part of her was relieved when he’d taken her in the reptile room. Was glad to have the decision snatched from her hands like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because there was no coming back after that. They could not be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, gods damn, Hermione needed that push. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even when she fell apart and rushed to him, she was not in any state of delusion of thinking he’d ask for her back. Even if him telling her to leave left a mark on her soul that was worse than any scar on her body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--- </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t cry anymore tears over Draco Malfoy. Not for years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She went back to therapy. Learned the difference between coping and defense mechanisms. Was told, by several high tier therapists, that she could not run from her PTSD forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, every time, she was reminded of Draco Malfoy and his foul, hurtful words that said the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once, in a fit of complete anger, she told her therapist this. </span>
</p>
<p>It was just a few weeks since she’d last seen him. She was about ready to throw in the towel and visit. Ginny said he’d not been doing that great anyways. </p>
<p>
  <span>She was about to climb out of her seat and storm from the room when the therapist's words stopped her in her tracks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he say those words to help you, or hurt you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her back was towards the therapist. She didn’t even remember her name. Jane, she thought. Maybe. She’d been through so many lately it was hard to keep up.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Intent matters. Always. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>with words.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, things just… clicked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco had wanted to hurt her. That had been the intention from the start. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she’d always known it. She wasn’t delusional. She was just desperate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a while, she stewed in anger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been months. And he never reached out. No apology, even though he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was dirty and nasty and unforgivable and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he would not face her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She threw herself even more into her work after that. To spite Malfoy, perhaps, but also because she was hurting and this was how she coped—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Defense mechanism, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jane said in her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione scowled, and worked even harder. Collapsed into bed every night, too tired to think. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pretended as if her world weren’t falling apart, and things were fine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean came into her life rather sporadically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been sent over to Durmstrang to teach a lesson about the life of a muggleborn on the run during the war. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was horrific. But it needed to be done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kids loved him. The way he told stories was enrapturing; the build of his soft voice, how he walked around the room, talking with his hands and using his eyes to emphasize points. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The students wanted more. They were learning and for once Hermione didn’t feel like she was forcing it down their throats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It started with drinks after work. Hermione hadn’t seen anything more coming. It hit her like a bus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things with Dean were </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She was so desperate, at that point, for something that could nurture itself. Could make her feel good without too much work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean was more like Viktor than Draco. He supported Hermione. Never picked fights and was always there when she asked him to be. He liked double dates with Harry, Ginny and Theo and didn’t ask questions when she stared extra hard when a picture of Draco getting into a bar fight was on the front of </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Prophet. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hurt, sometimes, to acknowledge that. He was a good man. Simple. Hermione was so complicated herself that she never wanted something that would tangle itself up if left unattended. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s what she thought. What she told herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But things with Dean fizzled out, and then Fred came along and it was much the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were sweet. They loved her even when she was mean and nasty. They didn’t take the bait. They sat down and talked things out. Like adults in healthy relationships did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean had said nothing when she wanted to visit Draco at rehab. He’d tried to talk her out of it— not because he was jealous, but because it was an awful idea. </span>
</p>
<p>She’d gone anyways. Harry, also popping in for a visit, cut her off and sent her back home immediately. </p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them, he said, were ready for the conversation they would need to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to fight,” Hermione insisted to her therapist after her and Fred broke up. “I only wish—“ she threw her hand down against her thigh and sighed. Bit back tears because it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not that serious. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wasn’t going to cry over this, damn it. </span>
</p>
<p>“It’s okay to want to be challenged, Hermione.”</p>
<p>
  <span>She bit her lip. Thought about the nights she spent teaching Ginny Occlumency because Draco was falling to shambles and she wanted to be there so </span>
  <em>
    <span>badly, </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted to help put the pieces together but—</span>
</p>
<p>“But challenges weren't what we had. We had arguments. We were bad for each other.”</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is Draco?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione shrugged. “Ginny says he’s nearly six months sober. That his nightmares have slowed. He’s considering going back to work, so I’ve been told.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like I never was.” She wished she didn’t sound so bitter. But it washed through her veins. Prickled at her skin. Suffocated her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You cannot take responsibility for his actions. Only your own. As soon as you let go of that, the easier it will be to move on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have moved on.” Her therapist nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t want Draco back anymore. She understood that her pull to him was a result of her own insecurities. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t all his fault. She’d screamed and yelled and made bad decisions too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll always love him. He… I know this sounds awful, but I wouldn’t be where I am right now without him. I’m happy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was. She wished she knew what she was looking for in a relationship, but it was a work in progress. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She maintained therapy. Probably would for the foreseeable future. She spent more time with her friends. Time alone, with just herself. In the house that had previously held so much pain, she found peace. Relished in the memories of Viktor instead of shying away from them and storing them in the deepest depths of her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d even planned a vacation coming up within the next year. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess I just… wish things would have happened slightly differently. If only so I could have been there for him. These past few years, they’ve been awful for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would take the suffering of everyone in the world and put it on your own shoulders if you could.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione smiled. “That’s one thing I hope never changes about me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She still missed Viktor everyday. But she felt peace, too. She’d even resigned at the Ministry. It was no longer her burden to bear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s condescending smile had been in her mind the entire time. He’d be so proud of her, even if she didn’t do it for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She went on more dates, even though they never gave her what she was looking for. Enjoyed them for what they were: opportunities to learn about herself. Giving herself a chance at love over and over again, because she deserved it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt nearly whole again when she saw his blonde hair on the shores of Italy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first three attempts to meet with her were promptly ignored. </span>
</p>
<p>The first time it was simple. She didn’t think twice before grabbing a parchment and penning him back. </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We aren’t right for each other. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>That was it. It was how she felt (mostly), it was what she wrote and she was proud. </p>
<p>
  <span>His reply, however, disagreed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bull shit. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t write back. Had no idea what to say in response to that. No ones talked to her like that since, well, since—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The anger she felt at herself for the blood rushing through her veins after she read the reply was well earned. </span>
</p>
<p>The second letter that came said the same thing almost word for word. </p>
<p>A more honest approach this time, then. </p>
<p>
  <span>She sat with a cup of coffee and watched the sunrise, parchment and quill in hand. It was so serene— just her and a peaceful morning. Her musings right there, at the tip of her quill. She need only write it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m scared of what I do to you. I fear the energy we had back then is what we’ll still create. If we were to fight, if I were to cause you any pain and you went back to your old ways because of me, I don’t think I could cope. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We were bad for each other. I feel responsible for a lot of the events that happened to you after I left. You fell apart and I wasn’t even there to help you through it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I hear you’re doing well. I saw that in Italy, and it’s too much of a risk. I’m not willing to try when I know what we’re capable of. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. And I’ll always love you. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His reply was swift. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I do not place my trauma on you. I carry that burden alone. I carry it happily. I want you to see how far I’ve come.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Always yours,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Draco</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She balled up the note and threw it into her fireplace. Suppressed the urge to down an entire bottle of fire whiskey. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The irony was not lost on her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next letter came only two days later. Her hands shook as she ripped open the seal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I won’t lie and act as if I handled anything appropriately after you left. I know you’ve seen the articles. And trust me, they only cover a quarter of the awful things I did in those two years after you left. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But I also won’t belittle myself enough to assume you have any sway over my current sobriety. The healing I found in that time period, while it did involve you, had so little to do with what </span>
  </em>
  <span>you </span>
  <em>
    <span>did to </span>
  </em>
  <span>me</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I was bitter before you came along. You were just a willing outlet. And it took me a long time to forgive you for that. I digress— this is not the time for that talk. It will come. I promise. But for now I’d like to fill you in on a little peek into this past year of sobriety. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When the nightmares stopped and I was able to lead a semi normal life, Ginny bought tickets to a Britney Spears concert. We went, sang every word together— stone cold sober— and I cried when Britney sang </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lucky, </span>
  <em>
    <span>because it felt a bit too on the nose for me. It was euphoric. Maybe for the first time since I quit drinking. I came home that night and wished only to tell you about it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I write to my father now, weekly. It was hard at first, but it’s almost like he’s a pen pal now. We don’t talk about anything serious yet, but he asked about you. I lied— I’m still working on things with him. Not ready to let him in on that side of me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He asked me to visit. I’m going to, I think. I’m scared. I can admit it to you. But I think he misses me. I can almost feel it. I learned that from you, I think. A bit of Gryffindor sensibility rubbed off on me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Harry and I were promoted a month ago. Still partners. Don’t think I’ll go anywhere in the ministry without him. My Azkaban related time ran up six months ago— the whole office threw me a going away party. You should have seen the look on their faces when I told them I hadn’t quit. Potter cried. It was a spectacular sight. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>These are just the highlights. I’d love to share more with you, if you’re willing. I’m quite proud of the man I am today. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not dismissing who I was or what we did to each other. Trust me, I’m the last to ever forgive my past deeds. If nothing else, won’t you let a man on his sobriety journey meet with the woman he ruined to ask for forgiveness? It’s a part of the process, you know. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I think of what I did to you, and I hate myself for it. But I think of what </span>
  </em>
  <span>we </span>
  <em>
    <span>could do together now— and I want it so bad. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours, </span>
  </em>
  <span>always</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Draco</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>For the first time in three years, Hermione cried over Draco Malfoy. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m on Twitter, tumblr, Facebook, and Pinterest now. All @hiccupfound. I have an entire board for Recovering Granger on Pinterest. </p>
<p>As you can see, there are a lot of differences between what Draco remembers about the relationship vs Hermione. I’d love to talk to you all about it. </p>
<p>See you for part two!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. i wanna kiss your neck (Hermione pt II)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is for crookshankscrew, who literally just asked “more recovering granger?” with her puppy dog eyes and I could not say no.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Things didn’t go as planned. They never seemed to when it came to Draco. </span>
</p>
<p>Agreeing to meet with him had been a concession made for her own sanity. It had nothing to do with the contents of the letter that was now stuffed in her bedside table, ink smeared from tears. </p>
<p>
  <span>If Draco had something he wanted to say, then she’d be the proper ex girlfriend and listen. An apology was much overdue as it was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flooed to Grimmauld Place. Having Draco back in her home felt like completely eradicating the firm boundaries she’d set, and meeting out in public was a non option. The media would have a field day with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo was on the couch, legs sprawled out in front of him with Ginny’s head in his lap. His chin was tilted down, eyes following his fingers as they raked lovingly through her hair. A tiny smile played at the corners of his lips as Ginny babbled on, and though Hermione knew she was invading on a private moment, she couldn’t help but stop and stare a few moments longer than necessary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny and Harry deserved all the happiness in the world. The look on Theo’s face said it all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Raising a hand to the door jam, she knocked twice, shaking the two out of their private bubble. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione!” Ginny stood and ran over, knocking the breath from Hermione’s lungs as she enveloped her into a spine crushing hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Hermione could return the hug, Ginny pulled back to see her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p>
  <span>If she wanted to, Hermione could feign ignorance and delay the inevitable for just a few more moments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theo scurried up the stairs to fetch Draco while Ginny brought out two sets up cups for tea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think Draco and I can manage this on our own, Gin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, of course. Just trying to help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a nervous lilt to her voice, and she wrung her hands twice before catching the act and fisting her fingers at her side. Hermione let out a sigh and pulled out the closest chair. </span>
</p>
<p>“If it gets bad, I’ll go. I promise. I won’t let things go the way they did in the past. I won’t.” It was a promise to herself as much as it was to Ginny. </p>
<p>
  <span>When Draco appeared in the doorway, Hermione’s heart stopped. The whole world did, just for a moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hair was slightly ruffled and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows. There was color in his cheeks and a sense of peace that surrounded him like expensive cologne. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was the same man.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A repeated mantra she’d been playing in her head for weeks now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing to fear, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she’d think. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You have the capability to walk away at any time. He does not have the power to destroy you anymore. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But looking at him for the first time since those jarring, confusing moments in Italy, she realized how right she was, but how wrong she’d calculated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was a new man, and he could topple her in an entirely new manner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione,” he greeted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room cleared in the time she’d been staring, lost and confused and fighting the urge to run. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the tight way he stood in the doorway, eyeing her like a caged animal, it seemed he expected that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded to the chair across from her. “I’m not going anywhere. I agreed to a conversation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The floorboards creaked under his feet as he approached, placing himself lightly in the chair. Sitting stiff as a board and refusing to meet her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look good,” she blurted. Anything to break the silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes snapped to hers; held an intensity she didn’t recognize. A knowing glint, perhaps. A repressed desperation even. Something that took the place of his glares and made him more subdued. Perhaps even friendly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re radiant.” </span>
</p>
<p>Hermione’s breath stuttered. She turned towards the tea and filled their cups, desperate for something to do. </p>
<p>
  <span>Their cups clinked as they added their sugar and cream, stirred with a flick of their wands. The silence grew thick until Hermione couldn’t handle it any longer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know why I’m here. What I should say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A heavy swallow slid down Draco’s throat. She’d never seen him this nervous before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was going to start with an apology. But it all seems terribly cliche right now. To say I’m sorry to your face is almost more than I can bear because it’s not enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How long had she waited to hear those words? Irony ripped through her like a fierce wind, and it was almost funny because—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want your apologies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco was silent. Studied the table like it was his sole purpose in life. “What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione shrugged and curled her lip at the tea she’d mixed. There had to be at least three spoonfuls of sugar too many. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Explanations, I suppose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I have the answer, I’ll give it to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>“And if you don’t?”</p>
<p>
  <span>There had always been this sureness to Draco that Hermione chased after. Even when Draco was wrong, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was wrong, he stuck by it with stubbornness so dangerous it brought its own gun. It was as infuriating as it was intriguing. Hermione had never been sure about anything before. It was too easy to see the other opinion, the flipped side of the coin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even during the war, no matter how primal, how idiotic the views of Voldemort and Death Eaters had been, she still understood. Just a bit. How stories and old legends had been built up to make muggles and muggleborns look evil. She could make sense of the fear of having magic stripped away from young and innocent children. Protecting the magical population was something she’d been trying to do since age eleven, after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was all rubbish, in the end. But still, she got how fear manipulated. The best way to counteract it was to keep an open mind, to never settle one hundred percent on one thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was exhausting. Part of her found comfort in the way Draco never thought like her. How he’d stake his claim and stay there, even as the fire licked at his feet and threatened to kill. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But just now— as she was trying to reconcile the two different Draco’s, a flicker of doubt flashed behind his eyes and— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It scared her. </span>
</p>
<p>“Then I’ll find the answer and owl it to you.”</p>
<p>
  <span>More silence. They were out of tea. Hermione sighed. Summoned all her courage and went for broke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you hate me?”</span>
</p>
<p>Her hands were sweating and she could hardly hear anything over the pounding of her heart. </p>
<p>But Draco did not flinch— didn’t even seem surprised that she was leading with the heavy hitter. </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes. Maybe most of the time. But I still have trouble differentiating from what I hated, and when I used anger as a buffer to cover up what I actually felt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honesty falling off of Draco’s tongue without any force on her part felt like salve on a wound. The answer was so harsh in its delivery that it couldn’t be anything but the truth. Tension slowly trickled out of her shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I loved you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held her eyes. “I know. And I’m sorry, because I knew it back then and I still continued on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last of her tea washed down her throat, but it did nothing to ease the constriction of it. Tears prickled at the back of her eyes, but she pressed them back and tried to compact the emotions away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t do that,” Draco whispered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione licked her lips. “Don’t do what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Occlude. Pack it all away when we’re here to air it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re only saying that because you can’t Occlude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can Occlude,” he pointed out. “I just got tired of the way it stunted me emotionally and never solved a thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure what she expected, but this wasn’t it. Perhaps she wasn’t ready. Maybe she should leave and try again another day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there were more questions now, making their way to the front of her mind and begging for release. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you love me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked older then. Less like the boy who tore her down and more like one who may have actually regretted it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like nothing I ever have since.”</span>
</p>
<p>The tears did flow then. But she felt no shame in them. </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A friendship</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they’d agreed. Nothing serious, just enough that it didn’t need to be awkward when Hermione began visiting London again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does that mean we can stop visiting Bulgaria?” Theo asked hopefully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione threw a handful of popcorn at him. “How dare you! Bulgaria is beautiful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And freezing cold,” Theo muttered, picking a piece of popcorn off his collar and tossing it in his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Regardless, Hermione was excited to have a home back at Grimmauld Place. She’d made work friends, and she enjoyed her down time, but there was something extremely peaceful about walking through the floo, hearing pop music and Theo and Ginny’s loud voices as they debated over this or that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She visited often. At least twice a month. More when school was out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things weren’t exactly the same. There were no hangover breakfasts or competitions to see who would be the last to vomit up their food. They visited no clubs and ignored all press in the way only experienced celebrities could manage. </span>
</p>
<p>But they still sat around telling stories, both old and new. They drank sugary, carbonated beverages that made her teeth ache and her heart full. </p>
<p>
  <span>She told them of adventures she and Viktor had and they giggled along. Even asked questions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was Viktor like?” Theo sat in the corner of a room, stretching his legs out in front of him and reaching for his toes. Apparently, he’d just taken up jogging as a hobby. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In a lot of ways he was very much what he presented to the public. Though he was a lot funnier behind closed doors.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hear a man that stone faced tell a joke.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They laughed. All of them. Genuinely. Hermione even did a poor impression of his accent in an attempt to recreate one of his favorite jokes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It still hurt. It always would. But there was a new type of found freedom in it as well. Viktor could never leave her. Not really. Not when she shared him with people she cared about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco gave her space, especially in the beginning. They never sat beside each other on the couch or at dinner. If it somehow ended up that they were the only two in the room, he’d find an excuse to hop up and hurry out. Once, they found themselves bumping into each other on the stairs in the early hours of the morning. Draco headed down for a cup of coffee, Hermione going up with a mug of her own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped, perhaps to say good morning, but then his eyes had widened and he’d scurried off without further explanation, and if she hadn’t been so keenly aware of where they were, she might have thought it rude. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t find it in herself to be anything less than grateful. The relationship they’d created was fragile and tenuous at best, but anything else would have felt forced and faked. The press could say whatever they liked about Draco and Hermione’s past relationship and what that meant for their recent revival, but fake wasn’t it. They had been exactly what they were. Nothing less. Sometimes she wished they could have been less. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, things were bound to meet a breaking point eventually. They were like opposite ends of magnets. Slowly coming together, dragging closer and closer each visit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were bound to collide at some point. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a Friday, and she’d arrived early because the kids had left for break the day before. She’d only needed to pack up the few belongings she kept at the school and bring them home before heading over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a few hours past midday and Hermione had expected the house to be empty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So when she walked into the kitchen and saw Draco’s shaking hands fussing over a pot of tea, she nearly tripped over her own feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Granger!” The cup slipped from his fingers and shattered against the tile. He fumbled for his wand and flicked it three times before his eyes shifted. His wand was tossed into the wall, hitting loudly before rolling to the ground and joining the shards of the cup.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione tipped her wand and the cup repaired itself on the counter. Draco muttered something under his breath, but it didn’t seem meant for her, so she reached for his wand and stretched out an arm to hand it back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shoved past him and took over brewing the tea, gesturing for him to sit down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran a hand over his face and placed his elbows on the table. </span>
</p>
<p>“I had— a fit.”</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione’s shoulders tightened, but she did not turn around. “A fit?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” A pause. “They happen sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>“What set it off?” She reached for the sugar. </p>
<p>
  <span>“Set it off?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Draco.” she snapped. “What triggered it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was quiet, and then he let out a long, exaggerated sigh. Hermione swept around and placed the tea in front of him before pulling out the chair opposite him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There was something in the field. Harry and I were out on a job. It— there were just so many emotions, hitting me all at </span>
  <em>
    <span>once </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I thought—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He broke off. Threw his head into his hands. Her eyes were wide and probably looked wild, but she tried to contain her anger. Until he was finished, at least. Until she had all the pieces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to finish the job. I didn’t want to break down in front of all those strangers.”</span>
</p>
<p>“So what did you do?” </p>
<p>She asked as if she didn’t know. Wanted to hear him say it. </p>
<p>
  <span>“I occluded.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand slammed down on the table. “Draco—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know! You don’t think I know?”</span>
</p>
<p>“You could have done irreparable damage.”</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve already done that,” he argued, tone turning cold. “What’s one more time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what an addict says.” Her teeth gritted so tight her jaw cracked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco eyes snapped to hers. His hands came down to the table and slid slowly closer to her as he rose to his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>an addict, Granger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be putting yourself into situations like this! What if you drank? What if—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No offense,” he bit out, “but I don’t need someone who was never there to see the worst of it tell me how to handle myself when my mind fizzes out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione snapped her jaw shut. Recoiled back as if she’d been slapped. </span>
</p>
<p>“As if I don’t have plans and procedures for when things like this happen.” he scoffed, jumping to his feet and running his hands through his hair maniacally. “You come in here and scold me as if I’m not highly aware of all my flaws and mistakes already. Like I’m not constantly replaying and wondering where I went wrong.” He stood and rushed over until he stood over her, intimidating and glaring. “You weren’t there, Hermione. You don’t get to tell me what I should have done.”</p>
<p>
  <span>There it was. The perfect opportunity to walk away and leave it. To move on with her life and away from Draco. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been happening slowly. One night the seating arrangements didn’t line up and they found themselves next to each other. Talking casually. Laughing, even. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things were easier after that. To strike up casual conversation felt like second nature. He’d inquired about her work, and she’d only held back for a second before laying it all out. Speaking passionately, like she used to. It hadn’t mattered how many times he’d try to bring her down. She’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>had passion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But in that moment he’d looked at her as if— as if her passion was something he prided himself on. Like he didn’t recognize her, not truly, until that very moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had argued before. They had </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>argued. But she was usually the one to give in. The one to wait and hold back the mean, nasty words that flowed from his mouth like fine wine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not this time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not this time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>“Whose fault is that?” </p>
<p>
  <span>His chest hitched; shoulders stiffened. It felt like fuel for the fight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’d been able to keep back even a quarter of the horrific things you said to me, I would have been there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How terrible for you. To be able to admit, years later, that you’ll tolerate horrible as long as it doesn’t go above—“ he raised a hand to the roof, “—this level. Gods, Hermione. I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful </span>
  </em>
  <span>or you and still you treat me as one of your lost causes that needed to be nursed back to health.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not what you were at all to me! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That says more about you than it does me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unexpected tears sprang from her eyes. Dripped down her cheeks and off her chin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You loved me too. You said so.” Desperation clung to her words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fight hadn’t left Draco’s eyes yet. He wasn’t in his right mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hated you more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was gone before he could say anything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny was at her house not ten minutes later, running to where Hermione sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest and looking out the window. </span>
</p>
<p>The house was in the mountains with floor to ceiling windows. She watched as the fog rolled in and out, all around the porch, covering peaks and giving a bleak atmosphere. </p>
<p>
  <span>Light footsteps sounded behind her, approaching slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew,” she whispered, not turning around. “I knew what we were capable of, and I still thought better of us. Of myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not himself after an episode. He didn’t mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not true. He meant it. He always means it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny kneeled down beside her, knees ghosting her hip. “He gets defensive. It’s a very raw experience, and it’s been so long since he’s had one.” She placed a hand on her shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s his excuse.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And a damn good one. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“What’s mine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not a bad person, Hermione.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve healed,” she insisted. “That’s what my therapist said. And I thought it, too. But all it took was five minutes for us to be alone for me to rip into him and— and it was so familiar. We fell back into it so </span>
  <em>
    <span>easily.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were tears streaming down her cheeks and her eyes burned. She kept her gaze on the horizon, too ashamed to look at Ginny. Could not face her, because Ginny had seen it </span>
  <em>
    <span>all. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d wiped Hermione’s tears in the weeks after their break up. Sat and listened as Hermione moaned on and on about the unfairness of it all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other side of the coin was true, too. Ginny stood faithfully by Draco through everything. She watched with a stern glare and pinched lips as he drank himself stupid. Not a single tear was shed when he was packed off to therapy and refused to say a word to her for half a year. Even when Hermione knew it killed her. </span>
</p>
<p>Ginny sat through all of Draco’s fits, saw him through all his pain, and Hermione was— jealous? Mad because he never asked for her?</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to be there for him. I would have in a heartbeat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which is why we never called.” Ginny ran a consoling hand through her hair. “Hermione, you don’t owe me any explanation. Nothing. But Draco wants to see you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t face him.” Hermione turned wild eyes to Ginny. “The things I said, Gin. I can’t bear to see his face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny’s eyes studied her face slowly, knowingly. Her fingers continued to ease her nerves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Draco once told me that a relapse wasn’t a restart. You don’t lose all the progress you made just because you backpedaled for a moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t backpedal. I exploded and took down everything with me.” She brought a sleeve to her cheeks and swiped viciously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You learn from it. You do better next time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny rose, and for a moment Hermione thought she might actually let her leave. Write Draco off as a loss. Move away and pretend it was progress. </span>
</p>
<p>But then she thought of Viktor. He’d told her his secret to loving quidditch, late in bed, tangled between the sheets, hand stroking her cheek. </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“All the best victories are hard won.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny’s fingers dug in the floo powder, feet scuffing the fireplace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Send him over. If that’s what he wants.”</span>
</p>
<p>Then a flash as she disappeared.</p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was over not even five minutes later, stumbling through the floo and looking crazed. She watched him through the reflection in the glass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione,” he breathed once his eyes found her. He slid down to his knees, keeping a few feet of distance between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I have no idea where— </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were right. I wasn’t there. I had no right.” If she looked at him, she’d just start crying again. And enough tears had been shed.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. But I should have never. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was— there was no winning there. I wanted you </span>
  <em>
    <span>so bad </span>
  </em>
  <span>in those days. I asked. I asked constantly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would have come.” How many times had she said that just today?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, too enthusiastic to be entirely sane. “It wouldn’t have helped. You must understand that. Things happened the exact way they needed to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want from me, Draco?” She turned to him. “I’m at a loss here. I told you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I told you </span>
  </em>
  <span>in those letters why we couldn’t meet again and you ignored me. Now look at us.”</span>
</p>
<p>He stared so intently Hermione felt as if she were under a microscope. The intensity hurt. Back when she’d wanted this kind of attention, she’d never been close to it. To have Draco hurting over her, the way he seemed to be now— it would have been some sort of sick, twisted dream come true. </p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t a baseline for how things might go. It was a bad moment, Hermione. Triggers— we both have them. We got set off.”</span>
</p>
<p>“She placed her head on her knees, exhausted. “What if that’s all we do? Set each other off.”</p>
<p>
  <span>“We won’t.” He shook his head. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>“Maybe we should scrap the friendship thing, Draco. It’s clearly not working.”</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be your </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She froze. Had been about to stand and escort him to the floo, but every muscle in her body locked into place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His shoes squeaked against the wood floor as he turned to face her head on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I loved you. I loved you so much that I didn’t know how to cope with it. I found ways to turn all your good intentions on their heads until I could occlude all the good away and focus on what was left in me. What I tried to put on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>“You… you hated me more than you loved me.”</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what it felt like, back then. I couldn’t stay away and I hated myself for it. Hated you even more because you let me treat you like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione furrowed her brow. Felt anger flare back inside her. “I saw you. The real you, I thought. I wanted to reach him so bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t deserve you. Still doesn’t, if I’m being honest.” Draco licked his lips and reached for her arm slowly. Pulled it until her fingers were free and he could play with them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The hate thing— it’s complicated. I never should have laid that information out there in such a fashion. I spent a lot of time trying to dissect and make sense of my feelings for you. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>hate you, but I loved you as well. And that hate— it manifested into something nasty and in the end, it wasn’t even about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we suffered from it, nonetheless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. Shame clouded him like a rainy London day. “I’ve learned from that man’s mistakes. I want to prove it to you. I want to sit down and work it out with you. Like adults. I want it to be healthy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In her life thus far, those words, spoken through tears in Draco’s bedroom, were probably the truest and most freeing she’d ever spoken. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She brought a hand up to his cheek. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>is how adults do it, Draco. And even healthy adults scream and say things they shouldn’t sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just not all the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not even most of the time. Rare occasions only.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This was rare, Hermione. It’s been four months and we haven’t destroyed each other. That seems like progress to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, lips pressed together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If— if you want to stay friends, that’s fine. Really. But— I love you. I loved you the entire time. Even when I was belittling you, or ignoring you, or goading you. Even when I could scarcely admit it to myself. And if you don’t want me, I will wear our days together like a badge of honor. I will spend the rest of my life doing better to everyone else than I did to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>Both hands were on his face now, pulling him in closer as more tears threatened. </p>
<p>“And if I want more? If it’s me that tries to destroy you this time?” Her voice was shaking and his eyes never left hers, faithful and unwavering. </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ruin me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then his lips were on hers, and she had no more doubts. </span>
</p>
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